


Fated

by orphan_account



Category: One Piece
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Fantasy, Friends to Lovers, Non canonical power elements, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, will add more as we go along - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “But the real question is, do you believe in love?”My second commander is in a standstill - a pause. Still chewing, grin still there, gray eyes still on me. Another eruption of cheers and hooting sounds from another corner. Someone probably lost a bet.“Yes.”There is a calm silence between us.“And you?”When I look up in reaction to his question, Gray Eyes is back on me again. Same gentle eyes, same soft smile. Same freckles that I swear seem to dance under these dim tavern lights...But as I pull myself away from my thoughts, I remember my answer, which has been the same my whole life. Smiling, I place my beer down again after one more sip.“No, but I do believe in heartbreak.”
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace/Original Character(s), Portgas D. Ace/Original Female Character(s), Portgas D. Ace/Reader
Comments: 52
Kudos: 139





	1. Moment of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> ....Hello,  
> I am testing the waters and practicing my writing. It’s been a while...In an alternate one piece world where Ace lives, and the natural rules of the one piece world may blur or bend for OC’s power and origin as I test out my OC...She is a mix of an OC and Reader. Please enjoy. Comments with your opinions and thoughts are much appreciated and helpful!

“Alright,” I announce, setting down my pint of beer. I muffle a small burp. He snorts a laugh, a few spats of beer spraying out before he follows along, and a soft thud of his glass also settles onto the counter next to mine.

“Ah shit,” He mutters, knowing where this was going. “Here we go-“

“Here we fucking go indeed, sir!” I mocked as I firmly slap the counter in declaration to each syllable.

This is what we do. This is our routine. Anyone would have never guessed that, just a month ago, this person who I now value so much to the point where it scares me was someone I was initially determined to murder. Even now, moments continue to feel so surreal to me that I fear I will wake up from this at any moment. But I guess I was always a sucker for a wild ride.

“Alright,” I begin again. Blood was rushing up to my face as the alcohol reached a nice, warm buzz in me.

“Alright,” he amusingly repeats after me. Gray eyes lock onto mine.

A roar of laughter erupts somewhere in the tavern, but Pop’s laughter rung the loudest and shook the place. His laughter came from his gut instead of his chest. He is in a particularly good mood tonight. Someone in the crew must be hilarious and a part of me wants in on what is making Pops laugh so hard. But Gray Eyes do not look away from me to see, so neither do I.

My arms open wide like I am about to showcase something to him. My back straightens, my shoulders draw back, and my neck elongates. I am a fucking graceful swan. He rolls his eyes as I continue. “The grand, most cliché question of them all! Are you ready?”

He pops a piece of fry into his mouth and chuckles. “C’mon, hit me.”

“You believe in freedom. You believe in power. You believe in the sea and now you believe in family,” My arms sway and conduct my speech as if it is spoken poetry. He’s shaking his head, but his grin grows. I find myself even more excited as I see his smile.

“But,” And I suddenly lean on the counter with my right elbow, fully facing him. “But the real question is, do you believe in love?”

My second commander is in a standstill - a pause. Still chewing, grin still there, gray eyes still on me. Another eruption of cheers and hooting sounds from another corner. Someone probably lost a bet. Gray Eyes tore his gaze from me so he can reach for his beer again.

“Yes.”

I nod in interest as I watch him take a sip of his drink. There is a calm silence between us. His eyes were lowered as he focuses on his beer and what must be his fifth plate of food. I follow suit and grab my own glass from the counter for another sip. I reach out for his plate to grab a piece of fry. He slaps my hand away despite my success.

“And you?”

When I look up in reaction to his question, Gray Eyes is back on me again. Same gentle eyes, same soft smile. Same freckles that I swear seem to dance under these dim tavern lights. For a moment I pause, not because I had to think about my answer, but because of the sight before me. Because sometimes, under these warm lights, I hold my breath as I take a good look at his face. And sometimes, I swear he knows and allows me to. But as I pull myself away from my thoughts, I remember my answer, which has been the same my whole life. Smiling, I place my beer down again after one more sip.

“No, but I do believe in heartbreak.”


	2. Freed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silly conversation leads us down to a specific memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC’s powers and origin may not be canonical to op world

“That’s so stupid! And boring!”

Marco groans. He is shaking his head as he rubs his temple. “Ace, stop. You know she’s just egging you o-“

“No, no,” Ace huffs and holds a hand up to assure Marco. Ace’s mouth is stuffed to the max with food, but somehow, he still has enough space to verbally defend himself and his hurt pride. Even with his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, he looks adorable. Perhaps Thatch is right. I tease him too much.

I hide my smile behind my mug as I take a sip of my coffee. It was a new morning. We set sail yesterday and survived a whole night of storm to be rewarded with a bright, sunny, and clear day. Venturing out in the New World is taxing, but worth every second of it. Seeing Pops and our family once again claimed a new, impoverished land as part of our territory has become my way of healing. I find I am addicted to watching a town of people slowly build themselves back up. The slow and gradual buildup of relief upon townspeople’s faces will be something I will never get over. It made the exhaustion and rough travels worth everything. I take another sip of my coffee.

Thatch and Marco sits across from me and Ace. Three of the four of us were done with our plates of breakfast. One of four is still eating breakfast, and it is close to noon.

Almost every dining hour always escalates to me and Ace bickering and teasing each other. This time, I must have hit a nerve for our Fire Fist Ace, as it seems he did not enjoy my mockery of his incapability to rationalize his decisions before acting on it. If he did not constantly do this, if he considered consequences a little bit more, maybe he would understand that fate is just a fad folks like him rely too heavily on. There is no such thing, and to believe in such a thing is childish and harmful.

“Yeah Marco,” I smile sweetly as I lower my mug, my eyes still locked on my Second Commander. “Let him speak. He’s a big boy now.”

“You’re the same age as him, Dahlia- “

“And yet he makes me feel so very old- “

“Alright, listen here,” Ace interrupts with a clearer voice. He finally swallowed down the food he was chewing. “What is so wrong with believing in _some_ sort of fate?”

“This is so silly,” I mumble. “Whitebeard wouldn’t be Whitebeard if everything just relied on some silly belief - without order, without control-“

“I’m not saying we rely and determine every single thing by fate.” Ace retorted as he takes another bite of his food. Rolling his eyes, he chuckles. “Why are you so against the idea that perhaps fate has led you to certain paths in your life?”

I scoff and cup my mug with my hands. “Then fate is one very cruel person.”

Ace stares me down as he engulfs more food. I cannot tell what he is thinking, but he continues. “So, what did you think us meeting for the first time was? “

“H-Huh?” My cheeks heat up as I remember the first time I met Portgas D. Ace. I was still enslaved. Before I realized who he was, there was one thing I still remember to this day because of how often I get reminded. What a hell of a smile. But also, what a very messy eater.

“If us meeting you at that shady resort you worked your whole life in was not fate,” Ace clarified. “What did you think our encounter was? Planned by who? Did you do a double take on me on purpose then?”

Through my peripheral vision, I can see Marco and Thatch exchange glances, grinning. This must be so amusing to them. They must be enjoying this.

“Like as if ALL of you guys did not do the same!”

The men laugh out loud. I remember serving them their drinks and food because that night I was not assigned to take the stage. I was bartending and being security because my master was not at ease knowing Whitebeard docked and was in town. I remember how Ace stopped mid-sentence speaking to Marco when we caught eyes, before lowering his hat to hide his eyes. Marco walked into a table. Thatch just gawked, unashamed. I remember being relieved I was not the one entertaining that night. I was exhausted and there were still bruises that did not heal enough for me to display myself. Another night of me as an entertainer meant another round of me fighting with crude pirates, which meant another beating from Mister.

As I return to the present, I sigh and shake my head in annoyance. “It just so happened.”

“Well, ‘just so happened’ doesn’t lead you to be Pop’s one and only daughter,” Thatch commented. I shoot a glare at him. I caught Ace mouthing an enthusiastic ‘thank you’ to him. Marco snorts into his cup of coffee. I shoot a glare at him too.

“It wasn’t exactly a very smooth and consensual adoption,” I retort. Ace laughs at this, because out of everyone here, he knows what I mean.

I did not find out until recently how Ace joined the crew. I had no clue he used to be a captain and had his own ship. I was surprised to find that I was not the only one who put up one hell of a fight before accepting Whitebeard’s offer. My jaw also dropped when I found out some of the crew members from Ace’s division were members from his old crew. I had a blast as Marco recalled the countless times Ace tried to kill Pops before finally submitting. Ace does not like dwelling on it, so I do not pry unless he willingly shares during a late night of drinking. Sometimes, we just cannot force a person to talk about their past until they are ready, and somehow, this became an unspoken and mutual understanding Ace and I have.

However, now it was maddening to realize Ace watched me fight Pops himself. I was ready to die killing Whitebeard. And that was the tipping point for Ace to hold a reason to kill me. Not my multiple attempts of trying to kill him, not my attempts to lunge at him and attack him, no matter how he never fought back. It was my attempt to draw blood from his father that made him decide back then that I was dead to him.

\--

_“Dahlia,” Whitebeard spoke through a chuckle. My hand trembled from gripping my katana so hard. My heart felt like it was being squeezed from both the fear and anger swelling inside me. It made it harder to breathe as it surged through my veins, expanding from deep at the bottom of my gut, boiling up to my chest as I looked up at Whitebeard. His shadow itself towered and loomed over and beyond me. The whole crew was watching - his sons, all these men just watching. I see even my possible death will be a spectacle. My eyes were as hateful as ever, never leaving Whitebeard’s. He slowly touched the cut on his cheek and felt the blood I drew. After a whole day attacking him, I finally touched him. But my body was worn out and could no longer keep up. It was hard for me to breathe steady._

_“Don’t exert anymore energy,” The old man said calmly as he sat back down. Nurses were attempting to hook him back onto his IV drips There was a nurse who was even nagging him, as if I were barely a threat to him. “The place you had to call home is gone. We just retrieved you from that rubble twelve hours ago. On top of that, you have not eaten anything since. Give it a rest. No matter how much you ask for it, I will not kill you.”_

_It kept boiling. I could not breathe. My master was dead. I was a slave with a dead master. What does that make me now?_

_Is this freedom?_

_I looked up at the person who had brought me onto this ship after they had wrecked the entire land and my master’s establishment. Our luxury resort, a haven for all pirates, - only a disguise for a breeding ground of all kinds of trafficking and exploitation- crushed and wiped out. And of course, once again, in the rubble, I am a lone survivor. Once again. Amongst the wreck, I am alive again. Is this freedom when I survive and everything around me is nothing but death?_

_“Where is your family-“_

_“Don’t you fucking worry about that,” I growled. Stall my time. Find his weak points. “I have no family.”_

_Whitebeard kept silent for a while as he studied my face. “Tell me something Dahlia. Have you heard of a story about a small island wiped away by a tsunami?”_

_My heart came to a stop for a few seconds as I did my best to fight against any instinctual reaction on my face._

_“It happened years ago, didn’t it? Manmade tsunami. One lone child survivor, adoptive parent died. Unfortunately, the child got transferred to Saboady to sell. No one figured out who caused it.” Whitebeard’s golden eyes tore into my soul. Deep within me, something was still boiling, fuming._

_Is this freedom?_

_I did not answer. I was losing my ability to think clear. It had been almost a full day since I started my attempt to kill him, and I’ve only able to draw one bloody cut on his cheek. His bastard sons pounced at this, especially a freckled boy with raven hair who suddenly lit on fire. I remember him because days before this, I was serving him beer and food. The handsome, Fire Fistful of Asshole did not hesitate to attack me since I managed to lay a hand on his ‘Pops’. However, I admired his blind loyalty. Such a willing and faithful loyalty compared to the loyalty I was forced to oblige to, to sell my life to. Beaten into me until I was forced to believe I would be nothing without that loyalty. And I truly am. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Whitebeard had ordered Ace to stand down after he pinned me down. My wrists stung from the burn marks. The warm blood trickling down my legs and arms distracted me from it._

_“So, you have no home, no family,” Whitebeard spoke as if he was speaking to himself, but his eyes still bored into me. “Now you have no master. What will you do now?”_

_Is this really freedom?_

_“That is none of your concern.” I raised my katana again. My arm was shaking. My body was over exhausted while Whitebeard stayed sitting, even grabbed a bottle of sake for himself. “So, let me go.”_

_“But you’re just so amusing, Dahlia,” Whitebeard continues. Chugs his bottle. “So interesting.”_

_“Shut up.’_

_“One lone survivor from a long-forgotten island, just to become a lone survivor yet again. “We didn’t expect to have any survivors in your area, and yet here you stand-“_

_“Shut up!”_

_“When Marco found you, your town was wet. Like a tide swept in, or as if the whole place were submerged for just a moment,” Whitebeard’s eyes seemed to glow. “Rubble soaked. Fires put out. Children who were at your resort were at the seashore, soaked and unconscious, but safe and alive instead being taken away and transferred to the next resort. You, completely fine, completely dry.”_

_White. Everything turned white._

_“Dahlia, you’ve done a great job at hiding yourself from the world. But will you continue to be alone?”_

_My ears ring. Whitebeard’s voice was slowly fading out. My heart was on overdrive._

_The ship beneath my feet rumbled._

_Commotion stirred among the crew as I looked up at their captain. The ship began to sway and shake._

_‘What the hell is that?!” Someone yells._

_The view happening behind Whitebeard played in slow motion. For me, it also played in black and white. The sea was drawing back slightly, pulling in one direction. Then a huge, gigantic wave formed and rose higher and higher, looming over us. Sunlight was blocked. Shadow covered the entire ship. The louder the ringing in my ears grew, the higher the wave._

_Screams, shouts, and orders must have been made all around us as I can sense figures dashing around and about. But their captain and I stood our grounds. My blood felt like it was searing hot, still bubbling, boiling, unsettling. But it felt good as I watched the tsunami form. It was the only thing I did not fear. The only thing that calmed me as it hovered over us. Suddenly, Whitebeard slowly raised an arm and spread his hand. My eyes widened in shock as I watched what seemed like air shattering like glass where his hand was._

_What I witnessed next was probably something no one would believe in if I told them. Because of Whitebeard, I have seen and now know how it looks like to have a tsunami crumble. I watched the tsunami ripple briefly, before the rippling turned violent, dispersing, and collapsing onto itself. Suddenly, the water fell straight, crashing right next to the ship and sending it reeling towards one direction as it swayed. Great pools of sea water splashed onto the deck. The dark, overbearing shadow that draped the entire ship lifted, the only one hidden from sunlight was me, as Whitebeard’s shadow stayed the same. He was laughing, leaving his crew baffled._

_“Interesting!” he roared. “Very interesting. For your weakened state, I am extremely impressed. Although, it would take more than that. You’ll need something bigger than that.”_

_What I let out must have been the most blood curdling scream. A scream so desperate, so enraged, so scared. I charged at him full on._

_At that point, I must have experienced Whitebeard’s Conqueror’s Haki. It was such a soul crushing experience that even some of his crew members fainted. It took all my focus, every single fiber in me to push all my energy into my two legs and keep them standing. I slid back a few inches as I strained against his force and power. His energy was deafening and soul crushing. My body instinctually let out a gasp from the lack of air. If I was going to give out, I was going to give out my way. I knew charging head on was suicidal, but that was the least I can do. The only control I can grasp. A control of how I caused my own death. I was not going to give into his haki. I can’t. I forced my entire weight against it._

_As I regained my senses and found steadiness in my footing, my ears stopped ringing. I swayed in place as I attempted to catch my breath. I felt so faint. The slightest wind would have toppled me over. I pulled my head up again and looked at him. This is it. My vision was blurring, and my heart lulled to a slower pace._

_“Join me,” I heard Whitebeard’s voice faintly out in the distance. “Become my daughter.”_

_The whole ship fell silent._

_“Dahlia,” Whitebeard said in a softer tone, but in my faint head, I barely heard it. “You will no longer need to hide yourself under my flag.”_

_The last thing I remember was the sound of my katana dropping onto wood and the small surprise I felt realizing I was still holding onto it throughout this whole time. My vision faded in and out and my line of sight went from Whitebeard looking over me, to a face with a serious, pained look, decorated in freckles and framed by raven black hair. It was looking down at me with an expression so full of emotion but so gentle. It was slowly approaching me._

_Then everything went black._

\--

  
My hand absentmindedly touches the back of my neck, wanting to touch where the scar was covering my past mark of the Celestial Dragons. I feel Ace’s eyes on me. He gently bumps shoulders with me, and I focus returns to him. A subtle smile grows on our faces. I felt my mug being pried out my hands by Thatch as he excuses himself to get us more coffee. Marco also excuses himself to tend to some things in his office.

“Well,” Ace starts, with a grin on his face. “I don’t care about your bullshit excuses or your fancy shmancy philosophical views. I think you entering our lives was fate. Final answer.”

I stare at him. Perhaps. I sigh in defeat.

“Final answer,” I agree. Ace pats my head. I slap his hand.

“Also, don’t talk to your commander like that. I do read, you know.”

“Ace,” I sigh dramatically. I clutch at my heart. “Knowing the updated bounty on Luffy’s head is not reading. “

“Keep this up and you’ll be sitting duck on our ship when we land.”

“Oh, suddenly you don’t know how to joke!”


	3. Fleeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation late at night, with the moon as a witness.

Tonight, it is finally my turn to be on night watch.

I chuckle to myself as I shift my position. I am already exhausted, and it was only the start of the night. I would have been able to save the energy if it weren’t for Pops giving me such a hard time. Pops absolutely refused to allow his daughter to be on night watch. I spent a good hour arguing with this old man. If everyone in the crew is putting in work, I will do the same.

_“You do not need to,” Whitebeard said firmly. “A woman should be rest-“_

_“Am I a commander?” I asked. I crossed my arms at him. Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed._

_“Dahl-“_

_“I am not a commander, so what makes me any different? Not that I want to be one. Besides, it wasn’t my ability to confine to your standards of what a woman should or should not do that led me to become your daughter. Or am I wrong?”_

_Silence. Whitebeard stared at me in silence, and a few moments later, sighed._

_I grinned. “Thanks, pops.”_

I have learned being the one and only daughter of Whitebeard is an incredulous title to don. It did not hit me until now. It has been two months aboard this ship now, and the amount I carry being his only daughter is starting to sink in. Within two months, the crew and I watched as my bounty rapidly increased. Deuce mentioned my bounty increased faster than Ace’s when he first joined. All three of us were staring at my wanted poster. At one point, Ace mentioned I should frame it. When I refused, he went around the ship and showed my poster off. I am still shaking off the embarrassment and the bruises I got attempting to rough handle, tackle, and wrestle Ace to the ground to get my poster back.

The amount of attacks and encounters with bounty hunters increased significantly, but they are all like little flies and bugs - no matter how hard and diligent I am, I cannot seem to swat them away. Especially when we land at a good resting spot. It has been so difficult to properly spend time relaxing and resting.

However, I was not surprised at the sharp spike of my bounty. I am basically a runaway slave. Even my first bounty was released before I fully recovered. Though never thoroughly mentioned in the papers, my face on that bounty poster makes it clear as day. My master was infamous for his branch resorts, and I was one of his best investments, property, and utility - all in one. I entertained and performed just like every other fellow woman bought by him. Our faces were not exactly hidden as our resort shows and gigs were part of the reason why Mister’s resorts were both tourist traps and a pirate’s haven. People wanted a taste of the closest thing to the perfect speakeasy. Finest, infinite supply of drinks and the finest food at such an affordable, discounted price, shows of beautiful women singing, performing, entertaining for folks of all kind. Pirates got a taste of elegance and a foot into society. They can feel like class. Locals had a taste of being close to and co-existing with pirates and the idea of danger, while still be within range of their comfortable bubbles. No one questioned such a perfect, harmonious party hub because no one questioned the operations behind closed doors. Everyone was enjoying themselves too much to not turn a blind eye. Power is an incredible plant where its roots thrive off convenience.

Having my face plastered on a bounty poster was like an official debut after performing so many times locally.

‘She’s international now!’ As Ace would like to put it.

A small smile settles on my lips as I bring my legs closer to me and wrap my blanket around myself. I look out into the dark night, at the moon shining so brightly. The moon is always brighter and larger out in the sea compared to viewing her from land. Felt like a little rendezvous, a secret meeting between the moon and me to whisper things to each other throughout the night, to share secrets and tender moments in the privacy of darkness and stillness of time.

I feel something slightly heavier wrap around me and it startles me out of my thoughts. I look up to see Ace smiling down at me. God, that smile.

“It’s colder tonight,” Ace explained as he adjusts the heavy comforter around me. “Don’t catch a cold.”

“Why thank you,” I softly speak, wrapping it tighter around myself. He walks around me and plops himself next to me. I look at him, curious. “Not going to bed?”

“It’s still a bit early.”

“Everyone is asleep. How early can it possibly be?”

“Huh,” Ace says in astonishment, more to himself, like he could not believe his entire crew was already knocked out. “Perhaps it’s the exhaustion? They must be tired.”

“It’s literally middle of the night, way past midnight,” I start. “But yeah, that also.”

“Thought you would want some company on your first night watch,” Ace’s grin was cheeky. He turns his body to face me and empties his pockets. A couple of smushed snacks. “Something to nibble on if you get a bit hungry.”

I look at him and smile. I watch him as he shows and explains the little snacks and souvenirs he got, and where he had some stolen from. I am not hearing a single thing he is saying, but the moonlight looks incredible on him as his dark hair shone, lightly moving to the gentle but firm sea breeze. His big smile, teeth all white. So cheerful and excited to share with me some parts of the world he saw through his own eyes. As he continues, I could not help but interrupt.

“Thank you, Ace.”

“For what? These snacks are nothing. I got a couple more in my back pocket. “

I continue to watch him as he lays it all out. Smushed, but still edible, I guess.

“Preventing an empty stomach also prevents you from being cold. And you get cold real easy.”

“Okay first of all,” I hold a finger up, exposing my entire forearm. “It’s not that I get cold. You get hot too easily, Fire Fist. Please do not put everyone’s body temperature to your standards.”

“Dahlia, you wore a jacket today when it was what, 70 something degrees? Everyone was sweating.”

“Sounds like it’s a problem to _you_ , not me,” I shrug my shoulders. I really am sensitive to the cold. I can withstand and deal with it, but I just would not prefer it. Perhaps it was all those years of starvation and poor diet that has gotten me sensitive to the cold, but it never affected my strength and agility.

Ace is quiet. I notice the burn marks on my wrist caught his attention. He then averts his eyes and looks out into the sea. “How’s your wrists?”

I take a moment to look down at my wrists. In a rage, and in defense of his father, Ace had pinned me down while his body was on fire the time I managed to cut Whitebeard’s cheek. My wrists got the most damage and took the longest to heal due to how hard he had to grip and pin me down, so flames seared and burned into my skin. With Marco’s aid, the burns on my wrist have been healing so nicely with time that the only permanent scarring would probably just be a noticeably light raised area of skin where Ace ‘s hands gripped. Marco is confident there might not even be thicker tissue and skin that will form. It is probably the smoothest healing I’ve ever seen for a burn.

“It’s fine,” I say softly. I hold them out against the moon, looking and observing the skin on my hands and forearms. Cuts, past stitches, even darker pigment on certain areas due to bruising on the same spots can be seen. “Scars are nothing new, just new accessories as time goes by.”

Silence. Ace’s face is turned away from me now, looking directly out into the sea. His lips tightened. I frown at the sight of it. “Hey.”

Ace, face still hidden, tilts his direction my way to signify he was listening.

“Stop it,” I warn him. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

The faintest smile forms on the corner of his lips, but as he leans backwards onto his hands and looks up at the sky, his eyes are dark and serious.

“Dahlia,” he starts. “I promise it won’t happen again-“

“Portgas D. Ace,” I declare. I watch him hold his breath for a quick second before I continue. “I was ready to kill Pops and you. Hell, if you were trying to kill someone I love and respect, who persistently showed their intention to kill, I would have done the same thing - if not worse.”

“How can anything be worse than what I did to you-“

“Ace, at that moment,” I pause to gather my thoughts. “I threatened your family, and yet your first decision was to pin me down instead of punching the lights out of me.”

I study him. His profile is truly a sight to look at, but it is these rare moments when a distant, lonesome look appears on his face that always pains me. First of all, someone with a smile like his should never have a sad expression like that. Second, it is an expression that reaches deep into my soul. Unexplainable, but fully understood.

“Okay,” I start suddenly. I turn my body to face him. He snaps out of his thoughts and looks at me. I pull my covers back. I hold my hands out as if I am expecting something. Ace’s confused expression makes me internally scream from the cuteness.

“Give me your hands,” I order, gesturing with my hands. “Let me see your scars.”

Ace, still unsure where this is going, awkwardly places his hands out to rest on mine. A lot bigger than mine and a lot rougher compared to mine. I held them and observed them, especially his knuckles. Instead of asking him where he got his scars from, I ask him how fast each of them healed. Lacerations heal differently. Cuts, burns, bruises as well. Slowly, bit by bit with a little guidance, Ace took charge of the conversation without realizing. Gradually, Ace was showing me rough skin and calloused areas. We traveled everywhere just from his hands, arms, and shoulders. From the adventures sailing on this ship, to his moments traveling as captain of the Spade Pirates - to even the wild jungle with Sabo and Luffy. Getting someone to just talk and normalize something we were told to be ashamed of was something I found helpful and useful to those around me. Scars will no longer be reminders of harm, but reminders of our capability to constantly heal. This is something I continue to remind others around me, but struggle the hardest to tell myself.

“Where’d you get this scar?” Ace asks and points at a long scar running across the back of my left hand. But his other hand stays in my right, fingers lightly curled to gentle press my fingers together while my thumb rests lightly on his knuckles. My heart could not beat any louder. His hands could not be any warmer. But there is still this strong hesitation from his touch. His hand holds no weight or pressure at all. It is so light without any firmness that I am sure he is just as cautious of his hand in mine as I am. This is exactly how cautious his touch has been, even when we are both pretending to pay no mind to it. His hold would tighten only by a feather whenever a movement from my body causes my hand to move. It is like I am holding warm humid air. It is like he is preparing; in case I broke our contact. It is very much like him - so cautious. As excited as he is to be drawn to those that are drawn to him, he is just as fleeting the moment things get too close.

“Good choice,” I smile. I explain about the time I physically fought back Mister for the first time. Although a fight with Mister resulted in a knife piercing through my hand, there was still so little Mister could physically do to me that time. I was a growing woman and an increasing asset, so there was a thrill and fear in realizing time aged a person while it grew another. I begin to tell Ace how I fought Mister over him cutting down on our dinner portions and although I physically lost the fight, Mister never messed with our portions again. Took a good two weeks to heal.

“Okay,” I start and straighten myself up. I look at Ace.

“Okay,” he repeats after me, ready and waiting.

“Here is the question.”

“Shoot away.”

“Show me,” I begin. “The scar that healed the _easiest_ for you. And this doesn’t only mean physically.”

Ace thought for such a long time that, for a moment, I worry if he even understands my question. But after a few moments, he twists around and points at his back. “Whitebeard tattoo. Took forever to heal but was worth every moment of it.”

“Touché, touché,” I say with interest, nodding my head.

“How about you?”   
  
I raise a hand until my wrist were in his face. His smile froze as he hesitates to even look at my wrist. He must have never actually seen how much my wrist healed. All he took were quick glimpses and relied on his guilt to paint the rest. He stares straight at me and did not look at it until I smiled.

“Took the longest to heal,” I spoke, and edge my wrist closer to his face, “but I was laughing my whole way. Worth every damn moment.”

Ace, stunned, goes quiet for a few seconds before he laughs out loud. There goes that grin and that bright light in the crinkle of his eyes when he laughs. He catches his breath and exhales, satisfied. His hand still rests tenderly in my palm, still as light as a butterfly. Still so fleeting like this moment.

“Touché.”


	4. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia recalls how she eventually accepts Whitebeard’s offer to be a part of the family.

I hear Pop’s muffled voice through the door. “Enter.”

I open the wooden door. Pop’s room will probably always remind me exactly how large and expansive this ship is. I have yet to explore majority of it, but it is a given with his size that of course, the main fleet would need to be large enough for their captain to not feel so squeezed in his own ship. I felt like I just shrunk in size the moment I entered. Pops is sitting up in bed.

“Hey pops,”

Whitebeard nods towards the end of his bed. I slowly walk over and sat down.

“It’s nice to hear you call me Pops so naturally now,” Whitebeard’s chuckle rumbles from his chest. I stare at his IV drips hooked into his skin. Lately, I enjoy how I found his loud, earthy voice so comforting and soothing to me.   
  
I scoff as Pop’s comment. “It feels more awkward if I am the only person here calling you Whitebeard.”

“Not that you are the type of person to care if you fit in or not.”

I smile.

“Show me,” He starts, reaching over to his nightstand for his bottle of sake. I turn my back to him and lift my shirt up.

“It healed well, Dahlia. But are you satisfied with it so far?”

“Yes,” I state firmly. After I fixed my shirt, my hand reached over to my back and touched what felt like almost rubber ridges instead of smooth skin on the center of my back. I envision what I manage to see from the tall mirror in my own room every night before I went to bed. Half of the Celestial Dragon mark completely seared off.

That is my night routine. A carefully curated ointment I had concocted at an early age for scars and open injuries, upgraded and improved by Marco, is ritually slathered onto my back and my wrists. Every night, I sit before my mirror, half naked, my upper half twisted to get a good view of my back. Initially, Marco was the one who had helped me at night to apply it because he had directed me to not move so much and to stay in bed on my stomach. But now that it healed such a significant amount, our focus is to heal it and maintain it as much as possible in preparation to remove the remaining half.

The initial plan I requested was to do the entire thing at once. But Marco, who devoted so much time, effort, and body into recovering my health, not only grew attached to me as an older brother but also as my medical guardian. I would imagine I would do the same if I devoted so much of my study, skill, and hard work into a patient any other person would have easily given up on. At a certain point, I can imagine Marco was proud of me, both in my body and mental health. He must have convinced Pops not to put my body through another stress again. A normal tattoo of our Jolly Roger would have been too big on my back. For my body to endure a fired iron cast risked the possibility of me fainting. Marco wanted to see through it that I became the best version of myself, and for that, I will forever be in debt for.

“I’m glad to see that that the hardened tissues healing is not so thick and rough. Marco did very well with the aftercare,” Whitebeard comments and I am pulled back into the present for a brief moment again.

“Yes, I’m grateful,” I say quietly. The whole process was smooth and quick. This long-forgotten fantasy of wanting to be freed of this mark would not have become reality if it was not for Pops and this crew.

When I fainted after my fight with Whitebeard, I gave his top two commanders hell the two weeks after that. Every time I was conscious, it was a hassle to keep me in bed, when my vitals were critical. My body was reacting to so many things - trauma, a new environment in open sea, intense second-degree burns on both wrists, infected gashes on my right knee, a dislocated left shoulder. To top it off, I was anemic from the lack of eating and hydration. I cannot imagine how stressed and frustrated Marco was when taking care of me. At some point, I believe Deuce even offered some assistance with the nurses due to his medical knowledge. There was a collective team struggling to prevent me from physiologically relapsing every time I regained conscious.

Then it took Ace and Thatch to physically hold me down, and I wonder how much psychological and emotional damage I did to everyone. From Deuce’s and Marco’s accounts, there were moments I was so delirious that it took a whole team to calm me down. At the worst scenario, Whitebeard needed to step in and knock me unconscious because I would affect the waters surrounding us and made the ship unstable. But when that happened, it was three steps back after each step forward, and Marco was back to square one with my vital signs. At a certain point as a doctor and as a person, he wondered what he was doing, and whether or not this was next to torture and suffering for me when all the crew wanted to do was help me recover.

Whitebeard had ordered a whole fleet to surround us, because it took a whole ship and captain’s attention for my recovery.

I was angry and my body reacted the same way. I have always reacted to fear with anger. I never asked to be on the ship, and I had no clue where I was going. At least with Mister, I knew I can somehow work my way to get the comfort I needed, even as a slave. I can be careful, sly, and conniving. I had grown to accept that, if I just worked my way up, somehow, I can make my rotting life rot a bit easier for myself. I thought it was possible for me to rot in the confines of my own comfortable space. And I worked blood and sweat to ensure that - that Mister needed me as much as I needed him. And I centered my whole entire life around this. It was my past, my present, and my future. To have Whitebeard Pirates enter my life and pull the rug under me - I did not understand whether the fresh, green grass I was stepping on was a good thing or bad thing, being deprived of it my whole life. So, I fought because I feared it. I feared this freedom Whitebeard offered. It took me a while to finally reached the point of acceptance, but when I did, it took only a brief second.

It was when I had another manic moment, and this time I seemed to have damaged medical equipment that was needed for me. When I was awake after being unconscious, I had officially lost count of the number of times I retaliated and ruined the crew’s efforts. I had counted and repeated the number like a mantra before I blacked out, but for the first time, I had lost count because I awoke only remembering just how monstrous I was. I awoke remembering exactly what I did, how loud I screamed, how delirious I was because my fever had peaked past 100 degrees. Marco mentioned at one point, he swore he was had to prepare to tell Ace and Whitebeard I might be dying. As I was regaining conscious that night, I had expected that I had finally crossed that line. Whitebeard must have had enough with me. I was a lost cause not meant to be.

I awoke bedridden and body too weak and numb. Even my eyelids were just too heavy for me to conjure enough energy to open. But for a few moments of steady breathing, I realized my body in fact did feel lighter. However, my left hand and left side was a bit heavy. After what felt like hours, I managed to get my eyes to partially open, and then it took a few more excruciatingly long moments for them to focus. Someone was sitting by my bedside, slumped over me. Dark hair, completely shirtless. Fire Fist Asshole. I remember just staring at him, his face covered by his hair. I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders and his unsteady snores. One of his hands laid near mine, with two of his fingers gently touching my bandaged wrist. The weight of his big head distracted me from the light uncomfortable sting on my wrist, sensitive to the pressure of his fingers. I still remember the first thing I thought of, and for once, it was not out of anger.

How can he sleep on top of my hip bone poking into his throat like that?

One time during breakfast, Marco had mentioned how, throughout all this, Ace stuck by me like glue. Believed it was from partial guilt and because he saw a bit of himself in me when I fought so hard against Whitebeard, he told me how Ace never left my side. The entire second division was under Deuce’s careful directing when Ace was too occupied with sitting by my bedside. If he was not on standby to deal with me when I was awake, he was on watch to make sure my body was not deteriorating when the nurses were not around. Ace was on twenty-four-hour watch, even when Thatch would take turns with him so that he can rest. Ace would just rest a few feet away, passing out in painfully uncomfortable positions.

I remember watching Ace’s breathing for a very _very_ long time that night, until Marco eventually entered and my eyes weakly watched him walk across the room and over to me, unaware that I was awake and fully conscious. It took a while to adjust my vision to see at a further distance, but when he finally came to focus, I noticed his exhausted, ghastly face. Marco with significantly heavy and abnormally dark eye bags was a Marco I hope to never see again. He was tending to my knee, and when cleaning it, he quickly looked up at me to check on me before looking back down and focused on pressing a gauge heavily saturated in medication on my skin. I barely felt anything. I noticed on the wall next to him, a bounty poster of young kid with a huge grin and a straw hat. ‘Monkey D. Luffy’ was printed at the bottom. I briefly looked around the neat room so my eyes could get used to the brightness before looking back at Marco. To this day, I still tease Ace about how unexpectedly neat his room was, as I imagined it to be as chaotic as him.

It took Marco a few seconds before his brain processed that I was awake. His head shot back up and stared into my eyes. I cannot recall how long we stared at each other, but we stayed like that for a very long time in silence. I think he was speechless of the fact that I was not jolting up and thrashing about, trying to escape from the room. My expression must have been calm, because I remember feeling super relaxed as I continued to look at him. But when my serenity turned into guilt, I watched Marco’s wide eyes swell with tears. Still watching me, tears fell down his face.

“You’re alive,’ he whispered. Because the room was so quiet and his whisper sounded louder than what he expected, he quickly came to realization that he was crying. He looked away and quickly wiped the tears. “Thank god. Thank fucking god.”

And he repeated that again and again until he was calm. When he turned back around and focused on my knee again, he looked back up and cautiously asked, “Am I hurting you?”

I did not know why and to this day I still cannot explain it, but in that moment of gentleness and consideration - despite all that I’ve done and caused - I felt my whole spirit collapse and give into my vulnerability. I silently cried. I mouthed no but continued to cry. Although I suppressed my heaving, my irregular breathing woke Ace and he shot up alarmed, half ready to defend and refrain me, half trying to gather what was going on. His face too, was exhausted and tired. There was a hint of drool at the corner of his mouth - I still remember the weird sound my throat made impulsively laughing through whispered sobs. I noticed he did not have his hat with him. Somehow, he looked a lot younger without it around. Ace also took a moment to process that I was not fighting or attacking, and that I, in fact, was crying without a sound.

“Am I hurting you?” Ace panicked and removed his touch from my wrist. “I’m sorry Dahlia.”

I cried harder. I tried to assure him by shaking my head no but failed miserably. Ace continued to ask what was wrong, or if I needed something. After a minute of one-sided charade guessing from him, Marco slapped the back of his head. “Quiet down already, don’t aggravate her!”

I felt myself still sobbing, but still could not make another sound. I must have looked so painfully ugly too. But I looked at Ace and tried to reach out for him. I opened and closed my trembling hand.

It felt like a dam had been damaged and water was just pouring out, uncontrollably. This was another type of fear I never experienced. Anger did not seem like the right defense in reaction during that time. I was so scared of my own emotions and unsure of what to do that I just needed to hold onto something.

It took a moment for Ace to process what I wanted, and his expression showed how he was panicking from the confusion and frustration of not understanding me. He stared at my struggling hand and saw me stare down at his hand he pulled away from me. He slowly put his hand out and I attempted to grip it. Once I did, I did not let go until I slipped back to sleep.

For the rest of my bedridden days, I was always holding onto anyone’s hand. I gradually realized throughout the days as I healed in silence, that I was holding hands with someone not to guard and protect, nor to have false pretenses as I would back in the resort. Is this what the younger girls at the resort felt like when we did our best to survive in the conditions we were in, scared out of their minds, not knowing what was happening to them? It was so odd to be on the receiving end of being the one comforted. I held onto people because of fear and it was allowed. I was allowed to be scared and to express vulnerability. Marco, each and every nurse, Thatch, Deuce, Ace - all allowed me to hold onto them every single time they visited - like a greeting, an assurance, a comfort. I was overwhelmed by the crew’s natural acceptance of my need to hold onto anything during my recovery.

To this day, no one teases me because of it, no one brings up my state of vulnerability against me. (Except one time by Marco, when he was so drunk, he cried about him being so proud of me, and some threatening gibberish to Ace that I did not comprehend.) I felt like a sponge absorbing so much energy and emotions that I was not used to. Marco, annoyed and irritated at Ace and Thatch for being utterly useless in the room besides being a spare hand for me to hold. The nurses, who always gave a peck on my forehead when they entered or left, collectively emotional and proud over my great recovery. Everything and everyone were loud, rough and obnoxious with each other, but made all their gestures and attention towards me heartbreakingly gentle, warm, and inviting. I wanted all of it. I wanted to bask in it. It felt the closest thing to sunlight as I stayed in that room for weeks.

Later, I found myself waking up to Ace’s hands more often than the rest of the crew and always wondered how Ace ended up being my designated full-time hand holder. Even later on when I asked about this, none of the men had a straightforward answer, and the nurses rolled their eyes and chuckled. Even when I managed to swipe Deuce’s notebook, knowing he documented a lot of his commander’s achievements, it was useless. Deuce wrote down in his book something so cringe-worthy and cheesy, along the lines of ‘a commander’s subtle victory is the heart’s loudest beat,’ that I almost tossed his book into the sea. After that, it was smooth sailing from there. My mind and body seemed to have made peace and I was finally healing at a faster pace. When I was able to speak again and I was able to step out the room with assistance, I made a deal with Whitebeard.

“Two things,” I remember breaking the silence when I faced Whitebeard. Ace had one of my arms over his neck, Marco was watching me from the back. Deuce, out of the purity of his heart, had tagged along to make sure all three of us were okay and in case any sort of help was needed. “Two things I’d like to selfishly ask, and I will serve the Whitebeard Pirates for life.”

“I didn’t ask for a servant, Dahlia. That’s not how things work on my ship.”

I inhaled shakingly and the grip on both Marco’s hands on my shoulders and Ace’s hand on my waist tightened. “Two things and I swear I will be your daughter.”

Whitebeard’s face was serious as he studied me.

“One,” I began. “I want my own room. If I am the only daughter, I want my own damn room, commander or not.”

“Two,” I breathed out and swayed. Ace wrapped his arm tighter, but hair was hiding his face. There was a knot in my throat. “T...Two-“

There was a very tense silence as everyone patiently waited for me to continue. But the knot on my throat tightened, and it got harder for me to swallow it down. My vision blurred as I looked down, clouding with tears.

“D-Dahlia,” Deuce said very quietly to me from behind. ‘H-Hey, take it eas-“

“Son,” Whitebeard cut him off gently. Silence returned. I tried to breathe and remain calm, but when I lifted my head again and stared at the large man before me straight in the eyes, hot tears spilled and my voice was strangled and desperate as I plead.

“Get rid of it! This mark!”

After a brief silence. Then a loud, boisterous laughter came from Pops. A good, sounding laughter that rung, vibrated and shook me to my core. I even stopped crying from the surprise.

“Goodness,” Pops tried to suppress his laughter. “That’s all it takes for you to be my daughter? You should’ve said so in the beginning! Save us all this hassle!”

“My sons,” Pops sighed as he finally caught his breath and wiped a tear from his eye. He looked at the three men surrounding me. “Tell Thatch to cook up a feast and bring out the sake! A celebration tonight!”

Looking back at it now, I know I still have not emotionally processed how I felt. Everything still feels like an entire dream.

“Pops,” I call out, after I returned from my thoughts. Still sitting on his bed, I turn to look at him. “I think I’m ready to do the other half.”

“Patience, my daughter,” Pops spoke out in a slower, softer tone. “Let this completely heal first, and we will sear the rest. We’re not going anywhere. Are you?”   
  
There is a slight tease in his tone. I smiled.

“No. Not at all.”


	5. Before a Storm

“I bet you fifty bells.”

My gasp was disgustingly sarcastic. “ _Fifty_? Did you say fifty? _Fifty,_ you say?”

Thatch reached across the table and smacks my head as Marco spat out his coffee.

“Anyway,” Thatch resumes with emphasis. “Fifty on half a day before someone in Emerald Isle picks on you.”

“A hundred bells within the first three hours we dock,” Marco joins.

“Oh _SHIT_!” I mock again, louder, and more hysteric. “A _HUNDRED_? A _HUNDRED,_ HE SAYS!”

“When did you become such an ass,” Marco comments as he also smacks me on my head. “Why are you so chaotic? “

“Sir, to be very frank, I have done nothing but chaotic things since I’ve stepped foot on this ship,” I defended politely as I rub my head. Thatch is snickering into his cup of coffee. Marco cannot hide his smile. I shrug dramatically. “I am disappointed you guys haven’t picked up my defense mechanism by now.”

“Well, get rid of it. We have too many young brats here with your defense mechanism.”

“Get rid of what?”

Feeling such a force from my left side, I am lurched all the way to the right, almost spilling my own cup of coffee. Cursing under my breath, I begrudgingly scoot over to make more room for Ace to sit with us, but his bare arm is still brushing up against me. I aggressively push back.

“Jesus, Ace. Pummel me right over why don’t you-“

“Ah, sorry Dally.”

“Call me Dally again, Fire Fist Ass,” I warned as I wiped away some splatters on the table.

“We are betting how long Dahlia can last without being hunted for her bounty,” Thatch explains to him. “Place your bet.”

“Big Bird here bet a whole hundred bells on me, so I can’t wait to sign my lease on a new home,” I nodded my head to Marco’s direction. I can feel Marco’s glare on the side of my head as Thatch howls from laughter, but Thatch immediately shuts right up as I continue. “Pompadour here bet his entire savings with his strong faith in me so-“

“I’ll bet two hundred.”

I lock eyes with Ace as Thatch groans and Marco chuckles. Ace raised an eyebrow as a smug look is on his face. “Two hundred if you can last without _anyone_ noticing you, that is.”

“Please, Ace,” Thatch started as Marco pats the guy’s shoulder in comfort. “Don’t start with her-“

“Oh?” I turn and give Ace my full attention, displaying my most charming smile. It is the same alluring smile I had developed through my years of entertaining men at the resort. After a few years, just like any person who works to serve, I developed a composure and voice to switch to. It becomes an autopilot mode.

But my heart skips a beat whenever Ace unashamedly admires my facial features, his eyes wandering around my entire face. No sign of lustful, lewd, or ill intentions that I have grown to expect from faces of men. There are still times where, whenever I speak to any man, memories of those kind of eyes ghost over reality and it takes me a moment to readjust and snap out of it. The most chilling pairs of eyes from my memories seem glued to the back of my lids like a thick veil, because sometimes for a split second, as I blink, I see a ghost of these pairs of eyes over the person before me, and I hold my breath until I blink them away. It leaves me frozen and sometimes even questioning reality. Do the men in this crew really see me as a person? Or do they see my past and what I have done to survive?

But with Ace, his eyes are so clear and vivid, even the most vicious pair of eyes from my past cannot mask over his. There is this innocence in his admiration. Transparency seems like a better word. Honesty? Something I cannot get used to. I feel my ears heat up as I continue in a honey voice. “Will I be able to hold your word, sir?”

“Be careful with that money Ace, or you might not have any food for the day,” Marco says behind his cup, hiding his amusement.

“That was never a worry for him,” Thatch says gloomily. “Because that’s my money he’s betting. He still owes me.” Marco is stifling his laughter.

“I’ve paid you back Thatch, you forgot _you_ owe me from the last time I saved your ass,” Ace spoke as his eyes do one more sweep of my face before turning to look at him, but Thatch is sulking and hanging his head, muttering about how spoiled young kids are these days, while Marco struggles to keep his laughter quiet, turning his head away to keep his composure. Ace looks at everyone’s cup and frowns in disgust. He grabs mine and sniffs it. “I really don’t get why you guys love this stuff.”

“First of all,” I grab my cup back in the middle of Ace sipping it. “We don’t love it, we need it. You don’t pick the caffeine, the caffeine picks on you.”

I watch as Ace grimaced and let the coffee drip out his mouth, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

“Ace please,” I beg, thoroughly disgusted. I quickly grab a napkin and start patting his forearm and the table dry. “Did you not learn the first time you tried it?”

Ace took the napkin I offered him and drags it on his tongue. God, he can be such a child sometimes. After looking around and realizing there was nothing on the table, he gets up and heads in the direction of the kitchen, which cued Thatch to hastily follow suit, warning Ace in a string of profanity to not touch anything. Marco turns to me when the last of those two disappeared.

“You still coming with me and Ace to see Pops later?” Marco reminds me. “We need to discuss our plans when we land.”

I nod, fully understanding what he was talking about. It has been a few days since we have seen land, so we are bound to see it soon. Our next expedition is for a specific purpose besides stocking up on necessities for our ship. Our crew picked up info on the next resort spot that so happened to be at a city close and nearby the next island we planned to dock at, called Emerald Isle. Marco suggested to Pops that it was worth visiting this island, and even insisted to include me in discussion - if I wanted to - as it would be helpful for them based on how well informed and integrated I was in Mister’s operations. With a lot of caution and hesitation, Pops finally agreed.

The Whitebeard Pirates are usually not the type to pursue justice. They are not some righteous, heroic bunch, but the type who will do their own thing and mind their own business. However, even if ideally the crew would not want to be under the radar of The Celestial Dragons, Celestial Dragons are still not a good enough reason to look the other way when it comes to someone in need. And ever since Pops decided to adopt me, the crew are more than aware of the consequences and troubles they will face. The amount of mental unity from the entire crew is chilling. Pops did not have to announce or address anything, and commanders and crew members are already on the lookout for information. I sometimes wonder if I would ever feel this at home if I were picked up from another pirate crew. Probably not.

I still remember Pop’s loud, rumbling laughter when I warned him of the dangers.  
  
_“Let them!”_

Marco was pretty on point – if ships often stop by a certain remote place when there are other convenient places en route, there had to be something worth scaping. Small towns like these were either steppingstones and sources to exploit for big chain rings and trafficking routes.

“Did intel mention anything about a sort of navy base stationed there?” I suddenly find myself asking Marco when I am out of my thoughts.

Marco slowly sips on his mug, in thought. “No, not that I know or heard of. As far as I know, there isn’t any marine base there since it is such a small island.”

“Have you guys visited this place before?”

“No, it’ll be our first. But the name sounds so familiar,” Marco’s eyes seem out of focus as he gets deeper in his thoughts again. “I can’t put my finger on it…but it sounds awfully familiar.”

I look down at my mug. “Same. But I never heard Mister talk about such an island. Even with his maps.”

Marco snaps out of his thoughts at that comment. “You had a look of his maps?”

I nodded.

Marco’s stare is intense, but I just nod in affirmation to confirm his thoughts. I plan to share what I know with Pops anyway. I want to in case it helps with anything.  
  
“Dahlia,” Marco continues. “Have you ever heard of his real name before?”

As I feel myself getting lost in my thoughts again, my eyes look past and through Marco. “I’m sure he has before when I was around eleven or twelve. I’ve either blocked it from my memory or forgot. Everyone at the resort had to call him Mister. Anything else was disrespect in his eyes.”

Before I can control it, my mind begins to dive deeper into heavier thought as the both of us fell silent. I feel myself thumbing the rim of my mug. My ears hum warmly and softly, muting out background noises. Marco’s stare slowly disappears from my senses. I did not notice how much time was passing. I did not even notice when Ace and Thatch returned, as loudly and obnoxiously as ever, nor when they slowly died down as they noticed Marco observing me as I was completely out of body. Not even when Ace stopped eating and stared at me. Not even when he had discretely placed a gentle hand on my elbow.

  
Mister.

Mister.

What was his name?

_You will forget my name._

A chilling, harsh whisper echoed in the dark. Raspy and aged, but deep and wise. I remember gasping for air. I remember the feeling of being numb. I remember cold concrete my face was touching, where my bruised and broken body was laying.

_‘Mister’. Repeat after me._

I then remembered being completely naked as I stood while cold, familiar hands bathed me. I remember my mouth moving on its own. Standing completely still, staring at a large, stain glassed window ahead. The colors so beautiful and enchanting – the most vivid I have ever seen. And amongst the colors, red - as bright as the color of my own blood I’ve seen come out of me. My eyes stared at the window until I finally noticed the image on the glass. An angel with a halo, staring down so mournfully. How can something so beautiful be so sad? Why is she crying? Was she hurt too? She cannot cry. I suddenly remembered this was the moment I was feeling rage before I can understand what it was, and how different it was compared to the many other times I was angry when I was younger – when I was allowed to have a temper as a toddler. Being mad for not being able to play, mad I was forced to eat my veggies - it all felt so light and far away in this exact moment as I was being bathed by the same hands that made me bruise and bleed and break. My experience with anger felt so minute compared to this odd feeling in the pit of my starving stomach. Subtle, simmering, starting. If I can feel a color, it was a cool dark blue in a form of a weak flame.

It was also the first time I was in such a luxurious bathroom. Scent of lavender came from the bath bubbles to my right. Warm clean tiles under my feet. Porcelain bathtub with gold accents and feet. Tub so clean and white, the foam can almost blend right in.

_Good girl._

A bubble made its way to my vision of the window. It delicately made its way, freely and slowly rising along the window, reaching for the angel. Suddenly I was enveloped in warmth. Lavender scent was stronger. Foam. My eyes glued to the floating bubble near the window. No matter how warm the water enveloped me, his hands were ice cold.

_Mister. Remember it. Breathe it. Live by it._

I nodded as I watched the bubble pop as it reached the angel’s face. I noticed the longer I looked at the angel’s face, the stronger the blue flame in my stomach became.

_Good girl._

“Churches,” I feel myself murmur out. I wait patiently for my mind to come out of this mental tunnel. I feel myself take a deep breath. Like a mantra, I mentally hear myself. _Be patient. Ride it out._ I am taking another deep breath. Then, Marco came in sight. I feel myself sway, but the gentle warmth I gradually notice on my left elbow held on firm. I focus on it.

Finally, I see three men stare at me. I blink hard. I immediately turn to my left in search for Ace’s eyes. Once I saw hard gray eyes so soft but so alert, my vision clears, and I look around the table. The ghostly veil lifts away and eyes of concern and patience all appear before me. They are the pairs of eyes I was searching for as I came out my tunnel. Relieved, I look down and saw my hand was gripping my mug so hard my knuckles had turned white. I notice they placed a cup of water next to my mug. It took a moment for my brain to send a signal, but my hand finally releases my mug and reach for the cup of water. My hand is cramping. I suddenly feel severely parched. I take a sip of water before I continue.

“We need to look for churches. Or at least places who foster or take in children.”

There is a pause amongst us, but I do not feel any sense of confusion. I do not feel embarrassed or feel the need to explain myself. I feel darkness dawn on them as they realize what I meant. I feel their motivation and channeled anger for me. I can hear their brain loud with thoughts. I focus on my breathing. Ace’s hand was still on my elbow.

“Okay.” Ace says firmly and calmly. “We will do just that then.”

Conversation gradually continues as they give me some time alone to ground myself. Marco shared with Ace the overall things needed to be discussed with Pops. When Thatch and Marco started talking about what was needed to be stocked up, I feel Ace’s grip loosen and slowly let go. Out of immediate panic, I reach to keep Ace’s hand on my arm. When I had let go of my cup, I did not realize how clammy my hand was. It is trembling from the amount of energy it took to reach for his hand. Let them make fun of me later for all I care, but at this moment, Ace’s hand is the warmest thing I am feeling, and the perfect distraction from the chilliness caused from my layer of my cold sweat. Ace, taken by surprise, recovers from it a few seconds later and replaces his hand on my arm firmly. As I repeatedly flex my hand, I start to feel the trembling gradually disappear.

Once again, no one held it against me. No one brought up why I needed my arm held. Everyone stayed at the table and did not engage with me until I decided to join the conversation. Ace held onto me for as long as I needed to before I felt strong enough to stand up. Thatch went to get started on making dinner as the remaining three of us headed towards Pop’s room.

As always, Marco checks on me as we make our way to Pops. “Hey, you’re sure you’re fine with coming with us?”

“Yes,” I confirm, staring straight ahead. Ace remains quiet; I feel his eyes glued onto the side of my face.

“Now more than ever.”


	6. Honest

I drew my shoulders back and something in my back cracked, but it felt good. I rolled my neck and continued to roll my right shoulder. It was nearing night and suddenly my arms and legs felt very sore. Exhaustion was dawning on me, I felt it creeping onto me. My mind felt sluggish, and my movements became slow. I wanted to go back to my bedroom. Today was such a long day.

Ace and Marco were still talking after such a long discussion with Pops. I do not know where they get the energy. My mind was drifting, and I could not focus with them. But they did not seem to mind, as they themselves were so caught up in plans and whatever commanders felt obligated to do.

_Good girl._

I felt goosebumps on the back of my neck and immediately reached for it to rub it. The image of the beautiful angel on the stained-glass window kept reappearing in my head. That vibrant red.

_Breathe by it. Live by it._

“Dahlia.”

I snap out of my thoughts and turned around. Marco and Ace were looking at me. I cannot tell who called me.

“Where are you going?” Ace asked. “We haven’t eaten dinner.”

I noticed I was turning the opposite direction, towards the direction of my room. Ah, fuck. Dinner. I did not feel like eating.

“Right,” I said and laughed it off. “Actually, I don’t feel so hungry. Today was very exhausting for me. I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’ll just wake up earlier to eat.”

“That’s fine, as long as you have something in your stomach,” Marco commented. “It was a lot today. Go rest.”

Ace was quietly staring at me. I smiled back an assuring smile at them both. “Thanks guys. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

I sat before the mirror and let out a heavy sigh. I could not sleep. My whole body felt so sore. Today was exhausting. Talking with Pops was exhausting. Extracting as much as I can from my memories and knowledge today was exhausting. From maps, to procedures of how conditioning young girls seemed to go from my observation, from my own experience, any familiar faces – clearly no asked me to, but I did not expect it to be so physically draining. My mind felt so sluggish that it took me a good thirty minutes to conjure up the energy to remove my shirt. I turned so my back was reflected in the mirror. I sighed. I know I shouldn’t be lazy applying my ointment.

‘Consistency,’ as Marco used to nag me about.

“Ugh, yes _mother_ ,” I spat out to no one in my room.

But stretching and reaching over to the middle of my back was straining my sore limbs. I was irritated at everything. My sore limbs, my slow mind, my unexplained laziness, my dramatic exhaustion-

A knock sounded on my door. It took me a second to process it before another knock came again.

“Dahlia?”

Ace’s voice suddenly put my mind in full speed.I swayed from the burst of energy.

 _Oh so now you want to work_ , I mentally told myself.

“J-Just a sec!” I grabbed my shirt and fumbled around to get it back on. I rushed over and opened the door.

In all honesty, I don’t think I can truly get over the sight of Ace in ambient lighting during the night. I should be used to it by now like everyone else on this ship, but sometimes I had to take a quick moment to gather myself together. His face was just so handsome. He was wearing a shirt unbuttoned. He was also wearing dark, comfortable looking long pants, which was a first for me. He had mentioned he didn’t have a problem with wearing shirts. Of course, on a colder night, he would want to keep himself warm. But during the day, as a commander, he felt the need to show his mark. Even if in the middle of the night something happens, he will defend and fight in the name of it. His family. Even folks who think it smart to attack from behind would be careful once seeing that mark. And I can understand. There must have been moments, just like my own experience, when a stranger had no clue who he was at first look until he turned around and the symbol of Whitebeard hits them. It was powerful because the crew it symbolized was truly that impactful in this world. The big mark on his bare, chiseled, broad back – strength branded with strength. ASCE down his upper arm with the S crossed out - in memory of his brother Sabo. I would be proud too, to wear marks from moments in my life to carry with me, that brought me strength. He didn’t have his hat on, and his hair was a bit damp. Strands of hair clung onto parts of his face. He must have just taken a shower. He looked so soft and relaxed. He held up a plate of food he had in one hand and smiled at me.

“Leftovers!”

I chuckled softly. “I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“I know, you don’t have to eat the entire thing,” Ace ushered himself past me and into my room. He brushed by so close to me I inhaled his fresh scent of soap. Was is this? Teakwood? Or Amber? And a bit of vetiver? Behind his back I mocked a welcome gesture that I never consensually gave to him as he intruded. The first time he did this, he had barged into my room to check on Marco and me and help him rest me onto the bed. Second time was months later, when he barged in during my afternoon nap to show me Luffy’s increased bounty. Each time, I attempted to pick a physical fight with him.

“Wow,” Ace exclaimed in a happy way. “Your room always smells so nice.”

My ears heated up. Sometimes he is too brutally honest for his own good. I wonder what I smell like to him.

Ace sat at my desk and placed the plate of food down. He was looking at it as if he was fighting his temptation to eat it, which is commendable since he will eat anything in sight.

I gently closed the door and walked over to sit on my bed. “If you want to eat it, you can. I don’t think I’m hungry.”

Ace took one last look at the plate and tore his eyes away to look at my room before resting his eyes on me. “I just ate. I think you should take at least one bite. You didn’t eat since noon. You need to maintain your…metabolism. And have the right nutrients for a good and alert head or whatever.”

I bit down my lower lip to prevent Ace’s effort to go wasted. “Sweetie, did Marco send you?”

“Listen, I could’ve just eaten your plate of food Thatch cooked up for you-“

“I thought it was leftovers.”

Ace had a look of embarrassment and a bit of frustration before he looked away. “Just eat a damn bite!”

Did I spot a hint of blush? I giggled.

I think there is a reason why I love teasing Ace so much. He is very reactive towards my teasing. Our Second Commander is always smiling, always so welcoming to everyone. Even his bickering with his brothers on the ship is always lighthearted and although rough sometimes, it was never genuine irritation. Never too serious. But Marco and Thatch along with myself seem to be amused when we see genuine irritation from Ace, especially towards another crew member. It wasn’t anger, but it was a type of childish tantrum and attitude that we seldom see from Ace. Marco had mentioned it was very pleasing to watch Ace revert back to what he imagined to be a younger version of Ace before he became a pirate.

_“You’re so irritating!” Ace exclaimed with flushed cheeks as I laughed triumphantly. His face was contorted in annoyance. “Sometimes you remind me of my little brother! God!”_

He got up and walked around the room, towards the mirror. “I think you should eat at least one bite. Our Fourth Commander makes sure everyone including you will be fed-“

“Alright, alright,” I said in feigned defeat as I stood up and headed towards the desk. “I’ll eat it.”

“Good,” he said firmly as he sat at the edge of my bed. A temple popped at the side my of head. He continued, “didn’t think it took this much babying to get you to eat something-“

A small piece of spinach hit right smack on his left cheek. Silence. He glared at me. I stared back in amusement as I munched on my food.

“Oh,” I said with feigned enthusiasm. “This is quite good.”

Ace arched an eyebrow, unamused. He rolled his eyes and peeled the spinach off his face and ate it.

Silence fell between us as I continued to eat. With each bite, I wanted to eat more. Without realizing, I was already finishing half the plate.

“Actually,” I spoke out softly. “Thank you. I didn’t think I was hungry but apparently I am.”

Ace paused for a moment before he spoke. He was looking down at his striped bracelet on his left hand. “How’s your shoulders?”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulders. Are they still sore?”

I rolled my shoulders. “A bit. But it will be fine after some stretching. I think today was just a lot more than I thought it was.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Silence. We were staring at each other, but it seemed like Ace was staring into space. It was like he was looking through me.

“What’s on your mind, Ace?”

There was a long silence. Ace was resting his elbows on his knees, just staring through me. Lost in thought. A serious face was on his handsome face. A face of a commander. Apparently, he also can’t seem to call it a night yet. I watched patiently. After a few minutes, after my plate was cleared and I stopped eating, he quietly straightened up and took a slow, deep breath. “To be honest, I’m not sure myself.”

I nodded. “And that’s fine.”

A small smile peeked on his face and disappeared with a flick of the candlelight on my table.

It seemed today was a lot for everyone. It wasn’t just me. Besides knowledge of areas and stations, Marco and Ace had to sit through and listen to partial bits of what I went through, how I was conditioned, how countless others are probably going through what I went through and much worse. I've failed and crippled a part of Mister's operation ring. So how much more harm will they do to the next person to replace me? My gut felt uneasy at that thought.

But the moment I looked into the eyes of Whitebeard, I felt no fear. His yellow eyes turned golden in the dim room, unwavering, still and barely blinking. It has seared into my memory, enough where it seems there is no longer those ghostly veils behind my lids. As long as I kept Pops in my line of vision and Pops was looking directly at me, I can keep going. Whitebeard, someone so powerful looming before me. His presence, one which his mark can instill fear in enemies and relief from those protected - recognizes and _sees_ me. I am not invisible. As long as he sees me, I can’t slip away into the darkness again. Never again.

I focused back onto Ace, whose eyes were so lost and far away.

“Ace.”

I waited.

“Ace.”

I watch as his eyes slowly refocus and look back at me. We just stare at each other for a minute.

“I’m sorry,” Ace started. He looked at the place on the desk. “You’re done with your food?”

“Ace.”

Ace looked back at me. My eyes still warm. Tired, but warm.

“Are you thinking about what I shared today?”

Something dark flashed in his eyes before his hair hid his face. He looked towards the direction of the window to his right. His jaw clenched.

“Normally,” I began quietly. “I wouldn’t prod until you’re ready to talk. But if you are affected by my own experiences I shared, I feel I deserve to know your thoughts of it, or of me.”

Ace immediately turned to me. His expression serious, sharp. “What do you mean, ‘of you’?”

“Like a change of impression, a change of what you think of me as a pe-“

“Nothing changed,” Ace said flatly. There was a pause. “You’re as annoying as you were this morning. Bratty and annoying.”

I smiled, but I felt so sad. It was assuring coming from someone as honest as him, but how long before he changes his mind? Will I have to continuously share things I have went through and experienced? Will my purpose here on this ship shift? Do I have to continuously guess what everyone thinks of me now? Will my value and worth be subjected to how insightful and useful my experiences are to the crew?

“I’m just-” Ace stopped just as quickly as he started. “There’s a lot going on in my head, but what I think of you is definitely not a part of it, Dahlia. I hope that’s not one of your concerns.”

My heart hurt. It was so painful to feel consideration from other people and I couldn’t understand why. This sense of delicacy…I didn’t know I deserved it without earning for it. I didn’t know it was possible. I quietly took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves, but my eyes were already starting to water. Ace was still fiddling with his bracelet as he looked out the window into his sea of thoughts.

“Do we have to make you recite and report things of your past now? It’s been one day and you’ve already exhausted yourself.” I watch Ace’s jaw clench again. “Even I don’t like speaking of my past, so I can’t imagine having to do it for the sake of… ‘information’.”

It was hard to swallow. I was trying to steady my breathing. Tears fogged my vision and I tried so hard to blink it away. As quietly as I could, I looked up and took a deep, slow breath. “Ace.”

Ace turned to me and froze. But before he can panic, I rose my hand in gesture of reaching for his. Habitually, without hesitation, he got up and leaned against the table, grabbing my hand. So warm compared to my hand. The only discomfort I can see was his concern of me crying. His grip on my hand was soft but firm, his thumb brushing against my skin. I took deep breaths and silently cried, as he looked away toward the window. We stayed that way as I cried.

When I had the energy to, I finally spoke.

“You saying that is more than enough,” I croaked out as I continued to wipe away tears that refused to cease.

Ace stayed quiet. I took another sigh and stared at his wrist, “It’s more than enough for me to keep going. More reason." I paused.

“You remember we talked about fate?”

Ace looked back at me, studied my face. I continued.

“If it truly is fate that saved me, fate is cruel. Because there are-“ I choked on my words as more tears threaten to spill. I took a moment to recollect myself.

“There’s too many other people out there. This sort of fate can’t stay with me.”

“Well,” Ace spoke after a very long pause. He looked down at me with a soft and assuring smile. “We will have to go beyond fate then. And we will do just that. I know we can. You have Pops, Marco, Thatch, me – and my entire division – don’t underestimate my former Spade crew. We’ll show them.”

A small laugh escaped from my mouth as I continued to wipe away spilled tears. I squeezed his hand. I continued to take deep breaths. Ace was chuckling.

“Deuce should hear this. I just had a déjà vu.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Ace squeezed my hand in return. “Can I ask a favor?”

Eyes swollen and still watery, I looked up at him.

“You need to let me know when it gets too much. L-Let any one of us I mean,” Ace quickly added. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw his freckles darken again from his flustered face. My god, he looks brilliant in my candlelit room. He breaks eye contact and looks away.

“Ace, I will let you know.”

His hold on my hand was so firm. It felt so present.

Ace’s focus seems to now be on my shirt. He cocked his head in confusion. “Why is your shirt inside out?”

It took me a minute of my completely exhausted and drained mind to process what he was asking. “Right. You interrupted me when I was about to apply my ointment.”

Silence.

“Do… you need help?”

His tone of awkwardness and embarrassment almost made me laugh, and I believe my face showed it, for Ace got even more flustered and defended himself. “H-Hey, just offering! I know Marco used to hel-“

“Why are you so defensive?” I questioned in mocked confusion. “What conclusions are you jumping to?”

His irritated look came back and even though he stood up straight, he did not let go of my hand. “Listen, you could’ve just said no-“

“But I didn’t say no.”

The dumb look on his face. I shook my head and wiped any more moisture on my face. I reached for the ointment to give to him. “Please. I am…very _very_ wiped out. I’m about to go to sleep because after all this, I am ready to seriously pass out.”

For someone who had offered help, who have always been eager to be there for me to hold my hand without a second thought, Ace was very awkward the moment he took the ointment. I let go of his hand and turned to sit on the corner of my bed. He stood there for a moment before guessing the next move should be to drag the chair near me. I turned my back to face him and lifted my shirt high enough to reveal my scar on my back.

Immediately after, it hit me that this was his first time seeing it. I imagine him pausing at the sight of it. The mark of the Celestial Dragon is quite a huge mark, let alone one where half of it is seared off. I wonder, as the bearer of fire, what is going through his head when he is looking at it. This is probably the biggest and nastiest scar I’ll have, but the most healing one. I wonder what is on his mind. I tried to lighten up the mood.

“With this you’d easily win your bet huh,” I joked. “But once it’s completely covered, you better save your own ass and hand me that two hundred.”

I felt a light touch on my back, the ointment being applied gently. Goosebumps raised on my skin and I pray Ace did not notice it. I was thankful my face was hidden away from him, as I felt it burn hot. When Marco had applied it, I was basically shirtless. Hell, Marco and the nurses must have seen a lot of me, more than I would like to think about. Here, at least my shirt was still partially on, nothing was really exposed besides my back. So why was this so much more intimate than I had expected?

“I’d still win,” Ace said so gently I almost shivered. I had never heard his voice like that. So smoothing in the silence of the night, only for me to hear. So soft I ached. If chamomile tea with a sprinkle of cinnamon was a sound, it would be his voice. It must be.

It is.

“It’s impossible for you to go unnoticed.”

He finished applying the ointment and I fixed my shirt back down and laughed. “What do you mean impossible, of course it’s possible!”

Ace put away my ointment and even tidied up my desk, which was a bit of a shock to watch such a chaotic man do. He looked at me with surprise. “Do you not think you’re pretty?”

My heart stopped. He quickly turned away and reached for the plate, ready to call it a night and leave. So typical of him, to just leave thinking it is okay to just be so honest. Too brutally honest. I cannot even tell if I am breathing.

“You’re very pretty, there’s no way I’d lose that bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....In this world, our pirates all shower daily..... >_>;;;;;;


	7. Retrograde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Hope everyone is safe.

Ever since First and Second Division parted from Whitebeard’s main fleet and headed towards Emerald Isle, we had nothing but days of on and off storms and disgustingly gloomy and humid weather. But finally, the sky cleared again as if signaling our arrival. Not a single cloud in sight. It was disgustingly hot, but the sun was delicious. The moment land was spotted and announced, I was already on the deck, waiting. Soaking up the sun and sea breeze, I stood staring out into the endless horizon. I looked down into the waters. It shimmered like it was winking at me. The color was such a beautiful azure blue. It made me happy, but for some reason, I felt like I missed it. It felt like I was finally seeing an old friend for the first time in ages. I wanted to wave down and exclaim, “You ol’ bastard! Where have you been?” I felt a strong urge to dive into it. I tore my eyes away to focus ahead.

There it was, a speck out in the horizon now visible to the eye. We really were approaching land. The sea must be on our side. We had gone the longest without stopping by anywhere, and we were almost close to running short on necessities from overusing what we stored due to stormy weather. Perhaps I should have stayed on Marco’s ship rather than Ace’s. My mouth twitched into a frown from remembering the amount of food Ace would eat in one sitting, so sure we were going to see land soon. Even if he was right, he could have rationed his portions a bit more. But as I continued to stare straight ahead, I sighed in relief and excitement. Finally, a small, cozy resting spot. In such a small island like this, surely, I can enjoy a bit of land and sun. It felt like it was months ago we had stepped foot on land when it really was just one week.

I found myself lost in time as I watched the speck in the horizon grow larger. The shouts on the ship, the scuffles of busy shoes – they all sounded so far away at a distance. It all felt like white noise my mind was slowly tuning out. Something far away was slowly echoing. A sound so faint I could not tell if I actually heard it. I looked around. Did anyone else hear this? I watched, but there was no one pausing, no one stopping to perk up. Ace, with Deuce alongside, were giving orders and discussing something. Ace’s eyes locked with mine for a moment as he was listening to Deuce. No confusion in his eyes. When our contact broke, I turned back to stare at the land. The deep and rich hue of azure in the waters gradually turned lighter into an aqua blue the closer we got. The sound got louder, and it hummed in my ears. A muted and low, almost bubbling sound. Where have I heard this sound before? It was so comforting. My heart ached.

After a few moments in a comfortable, lulled state, something was disrupting this sound from my far right. What was once fully surrounding me, the sound suddenly felt cut off from the right side, as if my right ear can no longer pick it up. I turned to my right but saw nothing but the vastness of the sea. But it troubled me. Why couldn’t I hear it from my right? I envisioned a clock. My one to four o’clock line of hearing seemed completely cut off. It bothered me.

I called a crew member to kindly lend me their spyglass. Just as I looked through it and slowly scanned my way to the right of the land, a voice above me spoke just when my eyes landed on it.

“Navy ship spotted! Two o’ clock!”

The odd and mysterious sound abruptly stopped altogether. All I heard was the soft slapping of the waves against the side of the ship, the much too calm commotion from the crew. Whitebeard Pirates after all, were all too familiar with our troubles with the marines. For me, the marines always reminded me of roaches. I’d prefer to be rid of them, and out of sight.

Normally, we could have easily prevented this. With Marco’s ability to fly, we could have easily seen this and just avoided by going to the left of the land.

_“Perhaps a marine ship is more than good enough to keep things running smoothly. An authority figure.”_

_Pops looked down at the map. I press on._

_“Pirates stopping by here have better reasons than a government ship to be stationed there. Stationed or stopping by, it doesn’t make sense to go the extra way when Emerald Isle is so off track.”_

_“Okay so let’s say there are marines there,” Marco said. “What is the plan then?”_

_Pop was thinking._

_“I personally don’t think we should avoid,” I said. “If we approach, we can tell how suspicious they are by how they deal with someone intruding in the middle of whatever they are truly protecting.”_

_Pops broke his long silence. “We never avoid.”_

I gritted my teeth as I tossed a small sack of two hundred bells into Ace’s awaiting hand. I grilled the group of young teenage boys who were specifically gawking at me near the ship, their cheeks and ears a bright blush of red. It was rude of me since obviously they were the locals and we were intruding onto the shore, but two hundred of MY money is too much.

“It’s been fun,” Ace said smartly. I can practically hear Marco smile and shake his head behind me. I bumped Ace’s shoulders roughly and walked past ahead, leaving both men and everyone behind. As our crew was unloading, I headed towards the direction of the Navy ship as we planned. It was a pretty small navy ship, and we were sure it was nothing that required the first and second commander to handle.

It was ridiculously odd that the navy ship did not move as we approached. Never have I seen them not react to us. With the ship towering before me, it truly did feel a bit eerie. I have never seen a ship this deserted. It sounded old as it creaked and groaned. The signature greenish-blue base of the ship was wearing off, dull and chipping. The symbol was partially ripped from the flag, like a huge claw ran through it.  
As I circled to the right of the ship, near the first porthole of the ship above me, I saw something in the corner of my eye disappear the moment I took a double look. Was that a person? I slowed my breathing as my hand rested on my katana. Strengthening my core and squatting, I tightened my muscles and took a giant leap.

Effortlessly and as quietly as a cat, I gently landed onto the deck of the ship. My footsteps were masked by the sounds of the ship groaning from each crash of a wave. How old is this ship? It hasn’t set sail in forever it seems. It was strange though. The boards, the moss at the sides of the ship, the steering wheel rusting – all signs of lack of sailing. But the wood inside – although dirty with dark, unrecognizable stains, were not covered in dust. There were some rooms I can tell have been left untouched, whereas some other areas, with more stains, felt as if they were holding their breath, aware there is a stranger walking about.

Certain format of the rooms made me uncomfortable. Something was unsettling and I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. But there was also this feeling of dread. Something oddly familiar, yet completely foreign with how, for example, the area where it should be the captain’s room, looked as if the furniture was oddly placed.

_I stood before Mister. He was sitting at his office desk, turned away from me. He was looking at his windows, admiring them. I took a quick glance at the maps and lists on his desk. I held my hands behind my back, my right hand gripping my just bandaged left tightly. I was already bleeding through it again._

_“You seem to be getting a bit too comfortable here.” The man turned around and faced me. My face did not change. Eyes staring into his, unflinched. “Surely, you don’t want to be back to how these girls are starting?”_

_Silence._

_“If I wanted to go back to where I was, I wouldn’t ask to be in charge of handling your…shipment. Sir.”_

_A chuckle. A bitter one. “I wonder if it really is for my benefit, or your own.”_

_A very gentle thump was heard beneath us. Mister’s jaw clenched in annoyance at the sound but his eyes glued onto me, watching carefully and waiting. I froze but did not dare to move a muscle. My eyes stayed locked onto his._

_I am unfazed, I told myself. Survive._  
  
_That disgusting smile sprawled across his face. “I remember when you were still a wee little girl. Small enough to fit anywhere. How adorable you were.”_

_Survive._

I blinked hard. I tried imagining Pops’ pair of golden eyes again. Ace’s. Marco's. Thatch's.

Mister’s office and this deserted room transitioned back and forth through my unsteady vision. The sound of thumping from my memory echoed in my ears, haunting me. I was completely disoriented and tried my best not to panic. How can I even stay alert when almost all my senses were stuck in the past? My guard is completely down. I took deep breaths and walked over to the window to look out. The ocean – the massive color of aqua blue thriving in the sun. As I came to my senses, I turned back to the desk and looked down at it, then noticed the scratches on the floorboards.

_Thump_

That sound continued to mentally play in my mind. Sometimes I believe that was one of the many sounds I will never shake off in this lifetime. No matter how many girls I had tried to save, protect, or made their suffering a lot less painful. I crouched down beside the desk to take a closer look.

The desk was way off its original position. It was pushed off to the side.

The sound still echoed in my mind as I reached for my katana. With the back of it, I gently knocked the floorboards with it, tapping around areas until I heard one area unnaturally hollow.

_THUMP_

I froze. This time the sound was too real and present. Is my mind playing tricks on me? My heartbeat quickened as I stared down, unblinkingly, waiting.

Suddenly my skin started to crawl. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight. I whipped to look at the doorway and my heart stopped.

I didn't even sense her presence. Standing there at the doorway, a figure of a small young girl in the most filthiest rag. Her hair was wet, tangled and a mess, as dark and green as rotting dark seaweeds from one of the filthiest and darkest bodies of sea. She looked so pale she almost looked gray. I did not know if I was seeing a human being or a ghost. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, not blinking, just staring at me. Her face was ghastly. My stomach dropped.

Both of us were still and silent, unmoving. I tried to find words but nothing came out of my mouth.

I wanted to put my katana away to show I meant no harm, but the moment I moved to straighten up, the girl stomped on the floor. Her eyes, frighteningly bulging, stared at my sword.

My god. Those eyes will haunt me in my sleep for the next few days.

I started making soft, shushing sounds to calm her down. Still gripping my katana just in case, I put my hands up. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”  
  
I can't tell if I was assuring her or assuring myself. Her eyes glanced at my feet, then back up at me. I continued.

“Is something in here?”

She stared.

At a distance, I heard a familiar idiot shout.

“Dally! If you’re finished, hurry up! I’m starving, I’m not gonna wait for you!”

I watched the girl’s eyes widen even more. I tried to bring her attention back to me.

“Is someone in here?”

She continued to stare. She slowly lifted her leg and stomped again, harder. Her feet was close to purple and it was dirty. Her toenails were black and almost rotting. It did not seem to bother her as she continued to manically stomp in a steady pace.

With my empty hand, I reached for the section of the floor that sounded hollow. The girl continued to stomp. Each stomp was more forceful, more angry. She didn’t care she was hurting herself.

“Stop,” I said calmly to her as I rested my hand flat on the floor. It was cold.

She stopped, but a look of what might have been panic went across her face. Her eyes frantic, her teeth bared like an animal. Her gums around her teeth were a bit dark. She’s missing one of her canine teeth on her lower jaw. She started grinding her teeth. However, she didn't move from her spot.

What happened to this girl?

When I lifted my hands away, the girl closed her mouth and relaxed, but her jaw was tightly clenched. Slowly, I moved my hand towards my small pouch at my side. She continued to stare at me, still careful. I continued to observe her.

I pulled out a couple of bells and a piece of bread I had packed with me. Her eyes locked onto them. I placed them down and pushed it towards her. She glanced up at me before looking back down. I took a few steps back and gave another gesture to take it. I watched her toes curl and uncurl. Her toenails were so long I can hear it scrape against the floor.

“Dally! You okay in there?”

I believe this was my first time being truly annoyed with Ace’s timing. He was going to scare her off.

I watched as the girl perk up at the sound of Ace’s voice and glance down at the items I placed on the floor. She took one more glance at me before scurrying towards the bread, without even a second look at the bells. Watching her suddenly move so fast gave me a slight jump. For someone with a slight limp in her gait, she was so quick it scared me. Within a second, she disappeared out the door. My heart was still beating so fast.

“Dally?” Ace’s voice broke out.

I sighed and called out to him shakingly. “I’m here.”

I heard footsteps quicken and saw a slightly concerned look on Ace’s face. His serious face didn’t match his carefree voice just seconds ago.

“You sound shaken. You okay?”

“Yeah,” I responded. Even I was doubting my own words. My voice was fast and unnatural. I looked down at the floorboard. “I’ll fill you in later, but don’t touch the money. Leave it there. Cover me? I don’t know what’s in here.”

Ace stood before me in silence, watching every move while I unsheathed my katana and shimmied it at a slit, attempting to pry out an opening. Once I had loosened it and lifted the sectioned boards, a waft of strong, decaying odor wafted the room. Putrid. I almost puked. Ace cursed out loud and coughed.

Burying our noses into the bend of our arms, we peeked down.


	8. Retrograde II

Our bartender handed each of us our pint of beer. I immediately start chugging. I can feel Ace’s eyes on me.

We found the most convenient tavern on the outskirts of what seemed the closest town to our ship. Sun was setting earlier than we expected here on the island, but we were thankful to have found a spot to fill our bellies.

Marco, to my right, asked me to recount what happened after we discovered the decaying body in the ship.

“Nothing,” I said. I wiped the foam from the corner of my mouth. “The girl just disappeared.”

The burning of my throat seemed to have helped me forget the putrid smell from the decaying body. The body was as small, if not smaller than the girl in the doorway. When Marco went to see, he said it could have been there for almost 2-3 months. We could not tell because too many factors left it so undetermined. Having it by sea water, trapped in that small cramped hole, the weather conditions – all we know was the girl was stressed over a dead body. Was it someone she knew? We left it unattended by my request, in case the girl did return back to that ship after we left.

“You didn’t see her anywhere after, right?”

“No.” I stared at my empty pint. “Honestly if she didn’t take the piece of bread, I would’ve questioned my sanity. I thought I was seeing a ghost. She looked near dead.”

Now in the confines of people and in a familiar environment, as I thought about my actions and how I handled it, I am disturbed at how calmly I reacted to her. She could have been dangerous. Although I didn’t sense any malicious intent, I couldn’t pinpoint why I felt oddly calm despite the fear and shock value. Things could have gone awfully wrong.

“Why’d you leave money there?”

“I left bread and money out,” I responded to Ace sitting to my left. “Wanted to get a sort of estimate in how isolated she has been. She didn’t even look at the money, she just took the bread. Which makes me assume that, regardless if she is familiar with currency or not, she avoids towns. She just wants food. My most basic and general assumption is she’s on her most primal survival mode.”

And oh boy have I been through that.

Before we left, I asked for two loaves of bread. Ace looked at me puzzled.

“I’m leaving it out for her. See if she will continuously take.”

And she did. Every morning for the next four days, the piece of bread was taken. But the money was left untouched.

As our crew went about our days slowly and steadily, I could not help but stare in the direction of the ship. It was not far from us and within sight. Sometimes, goosebumps rose when I stare at the ship, because it was close enough to be within sight, but far enough where I question whether or not I did see a figure – whether it was her or not. Something at the bottom of my stomach was churning uncomfortably at the thought of her. It wasn’t a feeling of disgust or fear, but instead a dread or worry for her own life.

One morning, when I made my usual routine with Ace – who decided to never leave me unattended as I visited the ship – there was the slightest change. As usual, the bread was gone, but the money - although still there and not taken - it was misplaced, as if someone picked it up and put it down. I stared long and hard.

“You think she knows currency?”

It took a long minute for me to respond as I stomached the feeling in the pit of my stomach - boiling, unsettling. “I don’t think so.”

One evening as the sun was setting, Ace and Marco were at the shore in hushed voices, discussing how long they planned on staying. I sat at the deck, legs hanging off the side as I, as usual, stared at the rotting navy ship, in a daze and lost in my thought. A lot of time must have passed, but what felt like just a minute later, Marco was by my side.

“What are you thinking about?”

I finally tore my eyes from the ship to look at him, letting his question sink in. Meanwhile, Marco continued.

“Every day it seems like you spend more and more time just staring at the ship until the next morning. You’ve even missed lunch today.”

I scoffed, but a gentle smile sat on my lips. “Thank you for telling Ace to bring me food.”

“I didn’t,” Marco smiled as he also stared out into the sea, the navy ship a dark shadow amongst the glowing red and orange horizon. “After he passed out on his meal, he just woke up and grabbed some food and left – face still smeared with food. Like a chipmunk. Mouth full of food, hauling more stuff to bring along the way.”

“God,” I shook my head as I laughed at the image of it. “He would be a terrible deliveryman.”

“I heard he was basically handfeeding you because you were so out of it,” Marco said. There he goes, this smart, gentle man. Always knowing how to curve my tangents. I sighed.

“Yeah,” I felt my mind melt in my thoughts again. “Just a lot to think about.”

“The girl?”

“You should’ve seen her Marco,” I said softly. “I’ve seen a great deal of messed up girls and women, but this is just-“

I couldn’t find the words.

“I’m assuming not just physically,” he responds softly.

“I think it’s the physical appearance for once matching how badly a spirit can be damaged. She’s just a little girl, no older than six or seven,” I can feel my stomach churn again. “Civilization is right there, a few miles away. Why is she glued to this rotten marine ship? What does she know, or learned, or experienced to know of something hidden under the floorboards? On a marine ship?”

I couldn’t emphasize it enough. A marine ship. A government ship. Finally, a feeling of disgust was identified in the pit of my stomach at the thought of this.

“I can’t stop wondering what has she seen or experienced,” I whispered out.

Emerald Isle really lives up to its name. As purple, orange, and red the sky wants to be during sunsets, it is the ocean that captivates you. Like an enchanting show, the ocean portrays many hues and gradients of emerald green. The different shades and hues were so alluring and vivid, a painter can spend their entire lives striving to duplicate its colors and never do. It was breathtaking. Sometime later, Ace had joined Marco and I to watch the remaining sun disappear. Even in the night sky, the darkest of emerald green reflected from the moonlight, giving such a hauntingly beautiful view. The ocean looked like emerald velvet - so enrapturing it made you want to drown in it, in all its colors. I found comfort in the night, as much as I loved the sun. I felt the night sky enclosing a safety net around me. Something about the darkness makes me feel safer – familiar.

When I came to my senses, I realized I was alone. Ace and Marco were no longer there. I don’t know how long I’ve been there, but I stretched and leaned over to look down at the dark ocean, its motion dark and velvet-like.

Suddenly, I heard it. That low, humming noise from when we landed. As I continued to stare down, the noise enveloped me, warming me from the farthest points of my limbs reaching deep into my chest. As I stared harder, the humming got louder. I felt myself sway, felt like I was being pulled into the ocean. But again, a part of this surrounding noise was cut off. The sound behind me stopped and I was slowly coming back to my senses because of it-

“Dally.”

I whipped around and looked slightly downward, meeting Ace’s surprised face. No hat, still shirtless. Still handsome.

“I can’t tell which I like more,” I started. “With or without your hat.”

“Why torture yourself by picking?” Ace walked over to my right side and jumped to sit next to me.

“What’s up?” I asked, wondering why he was back. I took another peak at the waters below me.

“Checking up on you,” Ace said as I heard him stretch. “You’ve been out here almost the entire day.”

I laughed it off. I didn’t know what to say. Before I felt my mind slowly melt back into my clutter of thoughts, Ace spoke out again.

“What she look like?”

“Huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Ace said softly. “How did she look like?”

“I,” I started, but paused. “I don’t know how to even describe it.”

“You should try.”

And I did. Each time I was stumped, Ace was patient and allowed me to recollect my thoughts. But eventually, as bits and pieces were laid out, words came out more fluid. Words turned to sentences and then thoughts, then an actual voice. I was sad. I was angry. How can a young girl – one alive and still trying to survive – in the outskirts of this intimately small isle not be seen? How is she not seen? Why is she so invisible but still the first person I see? Why her?

“I don’t want to leave this place yet,” I suddenly hear myself say. Realization didn’t even sync with the words I was speaking until a few seconds after. My eyes widened at this odd feeling of my mind and heart finally at an agreement. I looked at Ace to find him staring at me, as if he were also witnessing it.

“I..I have to know this girl will be okay Ace.”

“Then we won’t leave until we make sure.” Ace said confidently, as a commander, a crew member, a friend. He reached over and wiped my face before wiping his hand dry just to pat my head. I was didn't notice I was tearing up. He looked out into the distance as he ended his comforting gesture with a small gentle ruffle of my hair.

As I rubbed my tears away, I couldn’t take my eyes away from him. Even in the moonlight, once again, I hold my breath. I felt like speaking even though I shouldn’t. Before my mind can send a signal, my mouth already opened. I was surprised by how softly I called out to Ace. For a split moment, I swore I saw Ace’s small smile settle into his face at the tone of my voice.

“Ace?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He froze. This I didn’t imagine. His smile was still there, but he couldn’t look at me. The image looked the same as before – nothing has changed since a second ago, but why was it so different?

What was he thinking?

He was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly; his eyes still glued straight ahead. The moonlight that reflected off his eyes seem to have faded, as I watch him get lost in his own thoughts. As I was just about to call out to him, he turned to me. He was smiling so warmly, but a tinge of sadness shadowed his eyes, and it hurt my heart.

“I think you would be amazing with or without me, Dahlia. You’re really something else, you know that?”

Silence.

How do I respond to something like that? How can I retort against something that I felt was spoken from deeper emotion, in which the both of us couldn’t even fully break down? How do I respond when Ace was speaking from a troubled heart? A memory of our past conversation suddenly floods into my head.

_‘Portgas D. Ace,’ I repeated out in the air. I held his bounty up in the air. The price on his head had increased. Although it said Fire Fist Ace, I rambled to him about how I felt his true name would’ve felt grander._

_“Doesn’t it bother you?” Ace spoke out so suddenly._

_“Does what bother me?”_

_“The D. in my name.”_

_I sensed Ace’s anxiety behind his lighthearted tone. His awaiting expectation of the worst. I was confused._

_“What about it?”_

_Ace was quiet but could not look at me in the eye._

_“Look at me when you’re questioning me, Ace.”_

_He tore his eyes away from the ground and looked up at me. Although a small, polite smile was glued onto his face, it was the darkest I have ever seen his eyes. Empty. Face was still soft, but I couldn’t help but think about when Ace talked about his childhood days. I wonder, if this face has softened because of Whitebeard, how much harsher his face would have looked when he was younger, with these same eyes. But I held his gaze. I knew where this was going. In fact, Ace had talked to me about this before, during a late night drinking session. Despite being aware of where he was coming from, he was the one who started this. I will not play detective to his own projected behavior._

_“Again, Ace. What about it?”_

_“Gol D. Roger.”_

_“Yes. And?”_

_“Does it not bother you?”_

_I stare at him. “Why am I bothered by someone who had no part in my life?”_

_Ace couldn’t speak. I dropped my attitude and tone and uncrossed my arms, fully turning to him._

_“Ace, do you understand that you expect me to know every context in which you are speaking from? The context of your upbringing, of Gol D. Roger’s doings, to how society has treated him and you, and then to make a judgement from it?”_

_Ace stays quiet._

_“My friend,” I said earnestly as I stared hard at him, trying to get him to look up on his own. Every bit of my soul hoped my genuineness reached out to him. “Hell- my partner.”_

_Ace’s eyes slightly widened, flustered at the idea of me calling him partner. I noticed a faint tinge of blush on his cheeks. My heart was already racing at my boldness, but I continued._

_“I refuse to do the same thing society has done to me my whole life, even if you ask me to. Sorry man,” I joked, looking down at my scarred wrists. “I’ve tried to live my life based on what society deemed me as until you guys came along. So I find it counterproductive.”_

_“All I know is, for the first time with you – with everyone- I feel like I’m taking back my own existence and I am grabbing fate by its neck.” I looked back at Ace._

_“So pardon me if I don’t know, nor do I care about whether it SHOULD bother me or not. Society has never helped me in the first place.”_

_The hardened, serious look on Ace’s face disappeared. A face of shock dawned on it instead. I grinned at him._

_“But if Gol D. Roger is bothering you, you let me know. I’ll visit his grave. If an entire nation is bothering you, I’ll beat their ass. Say the word.”_

_Ace had his head lowered, so I couldn’t see his eyes hidden by his hair. But his smile grew to a grin as he looked back up and my heart skipped a beat. That big crooked grin, so beautiful and bright. A smile so hard his eyes smiled with it. It took your breath away._

_“Same to you, partner.”_

“Ace.”

I heard myself call out to him as I pulled myself away from my train of thought to focus back on the Ace before me. The Ace not smiling his smile during moonlit nights like these. The Ace who craved but feared intimacy at the same time. I placed my hand on his. Ace’s distant eyes refocused on me. I let them wander all over my face, despite the pained, sad look on his face. I gently squeezed his hand to assure him, and to assure my speeding heart. I spoke again.

“Partner.”

Ace held his breath. I smiled. “My sun.”

“Dahlia, stop,” Ace’s laugh did little to mask the shaking in his voice. My smile widened.

“Sunshine-“

“Oh god, the cringe,” Ace said louder, wincing. His fingers curled under my hand. He was grinning.

This was my routine. Under silent nights when we were alone at the deck, when a conversation goes down a path where Ace did not expect himself to go with me - even during nights when he decides to change his mind and put a wall around himself, at least he will know how much I cherish him, no matter how high he thinks that wall is built. As a friend, a partner - as family - he deserved to know.

…Whatever partner will mean to us anyway. I felt my cheeks heat up at the thought.

“It’s corny but it’s true,” I find my laugh was also just as shaky as his. I turned back to stare at the night horizon and took in a deep breath. 

“Partner.” Ace repeatedly quietly to himself. My heart jumped but I kept still.

I felt like I broke through another wall and had reached another level of intimacy with him. Thankfully, the word can mean a lot of things, but I wonder how he took it. His hand never moved, still resting very still under my now very weak hand.

“Dally..”

Ace went quiet for a second.

“Hmm?”

My eyes still stared straight ahead at the marine ship even though I felt his hesitation. I was too distracted with my racing heart and heated face and was trying to cool down.

“…You’d be fine without me, but selfishly, I hope you’ll always stay with me.”

Fuck. I held my breath as I processed his words, as I process his hand repositioning to hold onto mine. I slowly turned to look at him, but his eyes were straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge that I see him, flushed cheeks and all.

My god he looks amazing.

“You can’t get rid of me even if you wanted to, Fire Fist.”

He laughed. “Really? How can you be so sure?”

“Because I got fate by its neck, remember?”

Ace’s laughter rung out in the open. I couldn’t help but smile. I observed his face with the same amazement I observed the moon my whole life – in wonder, in fascination, in hopeless emotion. But at least there was something so grounding about the way he laughed. Something so assuring. At least I know he will still be here when the night passes.

I continued to just watch in awe as the corners of his eyes crinkle, how the center of his brows were expressive along with his genuine, hard laughs. When Ace had ceased his laughing, he was looking out into the horizon. Gradually, an odd look of realization was dawning over him. His smile quickly fell as his eyes seemed to have focused onto something. Alert, he gave my hand a few quick and urgent squeezes and I immediately turned towards the same direction he was looking at.

At first, I looked at the horizon of the dark night. The ocean, like always, was haunting with the moonlight reflecting, taunting us. To our left rested the ship, but what had made my heart stop was something new to the normal silhouette I was so used to staring for nights here in Emerald Isle.

In the far distance with the moon shining in the background, a figure of a small child stood out at the edge of the marine ship, as still as it can be, seemingly looking at our direction.


	9. Boogeyman

I held my arm out to prevent Ace from moving any further. I felt my hand accidently brush up on his bare chest. For such a cool, breezy night, he was, as usual, abnormally warm regarding his body heat. But my simple gesture completely put him in a standstill as both our eyes stayed glued to the small silhouette far away. The silhouette sent chills down my spine in the still of the night. If Ace wasn’t there to spot out the difference from the usual shape of the ship we saw every night, I would’ve once again doubt and question my own senses.

“What do you want to do?” I hear Ace whisper out loud, suddenly scared that if we speak normally, the silhouette would disappear. I felt the same way as I hush my own voice.

“I’m not sure yet.”

My body was tense as my heartbeat quickened. My instinct was to immediately run to the ship, to catch and take a good look at the girl again, to confirm my own hopes. I was eager. But what if we scare her off again? Two older folks approaching a small girl in the middle of the night – the wrecked ship seemingly the only familiar space she knows – it just wasn’t the right way to go.

“Ace, I need to go there alone.”

“Fuck n-“

“Ace.” I feel my hand was pressing against his chest again as he moved. I firmly pushed him back to sit down and looked at him. His face was stern. There was a light scowl in his face. His face was always so expressive. “Let me do this. It’ll be okay. I won’t let you down.”

“Dally,” there was a tone of impatience in his voice. “It’s not about you letting me down. It’s about your safe-“

“I’ll be fine, I promise. Having two of us approach her might be too much.” I held onto his stare calmly.

Ace’s jaw was clenching as he was searching for something in my eyes. Something restless was running around in the back of his mind and I can see it on his face. I pressed my hand more firmly onto his chest. I can _almost_ feel his heartbeat.

“Ace,” I spoke out again, mentally beating myself up for thinking about the firmness of his chest in the midst of this. “You can stand by here. If I don’t come back in an hour, you can come get me.”

“An hour?!”

“Okay okay, forty-five minutes!” I hushed him.

“No. Thirty.”

“Ac-“

“You have thirty minutes, Dahlia.” His voice was louder. His face was so dark I couldn’t even talk back. I hate when he does this. He knows how much I hate his angry look. I frowned.

"Did you...just go all commander on me?"

“Don’t frown at me, Dahlia. Thirty minutes.”

“Okay okay,” I said in defeat. I got up slowly. I kept my core balance as I stood on the edge of the ship, eyes staring straight ahead. My body was tensing. My eyes narrowed in on the figure. It didn’t move. After a few seconds, I quietly jumped off.

Unsure whether or not my mind was playing tricks again, I swore I have never seen an already still figure be more frozen. It seemed more rigid than usual the moment I lept off, like it refused to budge along with the rocking of the ship like what Ace and I saw before. Was the girl alert? Does she know I am trying to head over?

My speculations were confirmed the moment I took a few more steps towards its direction. In less than a second, the silhouette disappeared into the ship. I looked back at Ace up at his ship, his face still so serious, his whole face hardened and focused as he looked away from the marine ship and stared hard at me. I gave him a nod and proceeded. After a few minutes, I was approaching the ship. The entire island now sounded more eerie than usual. The crashing of the waves louder than I had noticed prior. I touched my pouch, feeling the remaining loaf of bread I had.

As if a marine ship in broad daylight wasn’t ugly enough, an old one in the middle of the night was even more disgusting. I spat by the shore as I walked around it to jump up and enter. By now I was familiar with which porthole was the room I saw the girl in.

The amount of moonlight pouring into the room was enough for me to see clearly in the dark. Once again, the bells I had left in the usual spot was there, but no sign of the girl. I walked around the room like I usually do when I stopped by, to see if there was anything else I can pick up. After a full sweep and found nothing, I walked back over to the bells and crouched down, pulling my pouch out.

That was when the hairs on my neck stood up. As I immediately reached for my katana, I whipped towards the doorway. I almost jumped at the sight. In the dark, the girl’s skin was so ghastly it stood out against her darkened and dirty rag. I almost couldn’t see anything but her head and feet. I immediately felt my body break out in a sweat in reaction to my sudden shock. My heart was pounding. My hand froze as I stared at her. She looked worse. Her cheek area was near hollow, the orbital bone around her eyes were more prominent. But as my eyes adjusted, I notice a bulge in her midsection, but I couldn’t see clearly. It was too dark near the doorway. I watched her bloodshot eyes stare at me then at my pouch. She was not snarling; she did not look tense. In fact, she looked calm but cautious. I pulled my other hand out of my pouch, bread in hand. Her eyes glued onto it. Slowly, I extended my hand out to offer her the piece of bread.

“Eat,” I spoke out loud. The girl flinched at the sudden volume of my voice. I made a gesture with my hand again before gently placing it on the floor.

“Eat.”

The girl stared at the piece of bread on the floor. Looking back up at me, she took a step forward, but one step only. She froze, as if waiting for me to react. But I was still crouching, still fumbling around with my pouch as I checked to see if there was possibly anything else I could offer her for the time being.

For what felt like an entire minute, the girl stayed in that position as still as a cautious cat. When she finally took another step, she bent her legs and lowered herself in a stance, ready to run away if needed to. Her eyes went back and forth between me and the bread. I stopped rummaging through my pouch when the girl stepped into moonlight. I was able to get a better look at her. Her stomach was abnormally bloated. This week must have been the most she had eaten. I bit the inside of my lip hard as I tried to figure out what to do next.

I watched as the girl crouched down closer to the bread, at an arm’s length away from me. From here I can smell a stench from her, but I kept my face still as I continued to watch. She reached out her hand for the bread but froze just to check on how I reacted. I gave her a soft smile and a nod. I can still see a bit of suspicion in her look. She took the bread and hastily bit into it, her eyes locked onto me as she backed away a few steps. I decided to slowly sit down from my crouching position, hoping my more relaxed position can ease her mind. I continued to rummage through my bag, but this time, one by one I was emptying it and placing it on the floor.

“Are you still hungry?” I asked as I pointed to her and rubbed my own stomach. She slowed down her chewing and stared at me.

“Can you speak?” I pointed at her again and made a gesture with my hand of a mouth talking.

The girl stopped chewing altogether. I was stumped.

“Is it good?” I imitated how her hand held the bread and pointed to it, making an ‘okay’ sign. Still no reaction.

I sighed. Well, at least I tried.

Finally, my hand wrapped around what felt like a packaged snack. Pulling it out, it was crackers that Ace had probably put into my pouch during my days of zoning out. It was a bit crushed, but it was something. I reached out my hand again to offer her my snacks. A sense of the most satisfying relief rushed to me as I noticed she did not step away from my hand. She looked at it then looked at me.

“Eat,” I repeated again, without any gestures. She took it.

With a pack of crackers in one hand and the last remaining bread in another, she continued to eat. She was chewing faster now, as if she had not eaten in ages.

“I’m sorry I did not bring more,” I started out awkwardly. “I see these are not enough.”

The girl just stared at me as I continued. “Hey, you know, back in our ship, there’s a weird looking guy with crazy hair that cooks a lot. He can cook you anything you want.” I pointed in the direction of where our ship was, then reenacted flipping a pan in one hand with a fryer in the other. I pretended to eat and rubbed my stomach again.

“The only problem is to watch out for this big guy with no shirt. He’ll steal your food and eat it too. Because he is a strong guy after all. Sorry kid, but this I probably can’t explain through gestures, since I have no clue how to charade an idiot.”

For a second, I swore I saw the girl slightly cock her head as she continued to devour the bread. After she was done, I watched and noted her opening the packaging of the crackers. I reached for my flask and handed it over to her. She looked at it before looking back at me.

“Water.” I pretended to chug it.

She took it with ease this time. I saw an ease with less hesitation, and I felt so proud. But I felt impatient, as I worry Ace was going to barge in here and scare her away again. I should have about fifteen more minutes.

After taking a few sips, the girl slowly reached out and offered my flask back. I smiled at her and shook my head, pointing at her. “It’s yours.”

As I was smiling at her, I watched her face as she stared up at my features in amazement and wonder. My heart was hurting as I saw how red and dark around her eyes were, but I felt genuinely happy she felt a little bit more at ease. Before I can stop it, I felt tears swell up as a rush of overwhelming emotion came over me. She continued to stare, her severely chapped lips slightly apart, crumbs decorating half her face.

“Eat,” I urged as I wiped a tear away. I pointed at her, gestured her to eat, and flexed my left arm. “Get better.”

I sighed as I tried to clear my thoughts. Despite her staring at me, I looked out the window of the room, the moonlight shining such a beautiful silver.

“I wonder if you’ve been alone all this time,” I said aloud. “I wonder what your name is.”

I looked back at her. She was looking down at my small compact mirror. It had a lavender encasing in the shape of a small seashell with gold finishing. A small luxury item I had owned from the resort that I managed to still have on me. Although its regal luster had long faded and scratches and chipping now decorated it, it held its beauty and elegance. Smiling, I gently pushed it closer to her, so close that it reached her toes. I was delighted and proud she did not flinch. She stared down at it in curiosity, a couple of crumbs on her cheeks falling onto the floor.

“Keep it. It’s yours,” I spoke. At this point it felt mighty comfortable talking out loud like I was talking to a wall. She lightly touched it with one finger and looked back up at me. Still smiling, I nodded and gestured it to her.

I sighed and stretched, which left the girl startled and back to being alert. Before getting up, I mimicked a watch on my wrist, pointing at myself and at the direction of the ship. “I gotta go. Big angry handsome idiot waiting for me.”

Whether or not she understood me did not matter. Today was already such a big success. Again, I found myself speaking out loud to myself as I stood up and looked out the window. From my peripheral vision, the girl was startled at my actions and got up, heading near the doorway again.  
  
“Wish you can come with me. There’s more food there. But I wonder what’s keeping you here on this ship specifically.”

“B…B-”

I held my breath. I turned to stare at the girl. Did she just speak? Her mouth was open, but she did not utter another sound. I looked around the room. Was I imagining things? I looked back at her. “What?”

“Boo…”

My head was spinning in excitement. So she can speak. I tried to remain calm as I watched her mouth move, struggling to get her vocals out. It was raspy and dry, but under the harshness of it, a sound of a frightened little girl was heard.

“Boogeyman.”

Boogeyman?

At the moment in slow motion, something was moving behind her at the doorway. Before I could process what I saw, something instinctual made me leap towards her when I watched her eyes realize the same thing. She sensed something behind her, and her eyes widened in the kind of fear I have not seen in years. I lunged forward, eyes intense and focused on getting her out of the way.

“Watch out!”

In a split second in a low leap, I swept at her feet, making her fall backwards out of the room. Mid fall, I shoved her to the side out into the hallway of the ship as hard as I can. With her light weight and my force, although painful, she should be at a far distance. I felt a chill up my spine as I felt a gust of wind to my right ear as a glint of silver flashed in my peripheral vision, passing me and into the room we just leaped out of. Without hesitation, I slashed my katana upward to my right, my body twisting to get a right angle before I crashed onto the floor. My katan hit something, but I felt blood rushing up my ear as it was warm. I felt something wet drip on my shoulders. I was bleeding. As I rolled on the floor, I flipped backwards to land facing the room.

Something did not feel right. My right hand holding onto my katana was tense and cramped. Something didn’t feel good about what was inside.

There was a deafening silence in the air. I heard the girl try to get on her feet to my left. Her whimpers were raspy. I took a glance at her. She was extremely near the opening of the deck. She got up, clutching her left arm she must have landed on.

“Run!” I growled at her. I know now she can comprehend me. I impatiently nodded my head to the direction of Ace. “RUN!”

At that moment I made a choice to step towards the room and close any opening space for whatever or whoever charged into the room. I tried to take this moment to steady my breath as I hear the small footsteps of the girl fade away.

Focus.

I stepped into the room. The silence was deafening to my ears but my eyes locked onto the dark figure who stood by the window. Tall and almost looming, a man I could not identify was draped in such a darkness that the moonlight did not reach him. He wore a tall hat that shadowed over his face, but his piercing, beady eyes sent shivers down my spine. The intent behind those eyes seem sinister and wicked. I held my katana harder.

Hearing his laugh almost knocked the breath out of me. Not only the dry, drawl of his laugh, but the familiarity was what made me sick to my stomach. Again, the feeling of familiarity with just enough of a distance to be unrecognizable was a feeling I hated.

“Dahlia. What a surprise. What a pleasure.”

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Like my body refused to breathe in air. I was confused. My heart began to beat fast. Why was I holding my breath?

“You are most certainly a sight to see.” The drawl of his deep voice was disgusting. His voice clung onto you like a poisonous smog. It made you want to burn the flesh of your skin. “You’re more beautiful in person than I have ever imagined.”

I really could not breathe. It was hard to breathe. My head was pulsing.

“Please, let me hear your voice?”

_Don’t speak._

A voice inside me rung out like a warning.

_Do not speak. Don’t let him hear your voice. Don’t speak._

“I can imagine it to be a _delightful_ voice, sweet Dahlia,”

I needed to throw up. Blood was rushing up to my head. I felt dizzy. What was going on?

“Pity you let that girl get away. You certainly are a troublemaker.” There was a hint of entertainment and amusement in his voice. “What’s the matter Dahlia? Are you okay?”

I couldn’t move. I needed to throw up. I was frozen and paralyzed. I watched in panic as he took a step towards me. I fought to stay focused, grunting as I struggled to try to get any part of my body to move. As he got closer, I heard Ace’s voice shout out in the night.

In a second, the figure was behind me. His voice speaking into my right ear. It felt disgusting, feeling his warm breath so close to me. He was laughing.

“I’ll send my regards to Mister.”

I felt something wet wipe at my bleeding ear. I wanted to scream but nothing came out my mouth. My stomach was boiling again, something was surging in me as I felt rage and disgust.

Like breaking a chain, as this boiling warmth spread in me, I finally felt my arm swing again. His eyes slightly widened in shock, but easily dodged my reckless swing. I heard Ace call out again. He was getting closer.

When stranger’s presence abruptly disappeared, I felt my body lurch forward. I was suddenly able to move the rest of my body, but could not catch myself falling face down onto the floor, gasping violently for air while heaving from the nausea. My body was in so much pain and confusion, reacting to many different things that my mind was in panic. I forced myself to get up again, heaving. I gripped my katana as I looked around. The room was empty.

I continued to gasp, continued to heave. What the fuck just happened?

But my body was giving out. My vision was blurring in and out. I focused on my breathing. I have to get to Ace. What if this stranger was going to him?

“Shit,” I gasped as I took a weak step forward. I tried calling out, but my voice was strangled. “Ace-“

I fell. My legs felt numb and prickly, as if blood were cut off from my legs for hours and was finally rushing back to them. What was going on? It was such a painfully odd feeling I curled and tensed up at the feeling, waiting for the numbness to do away. It was excruciating, this sensation. I struggled to sit up. I stared at the compact mirror still laying on the floor near me, glowing under the moonlight despite its rust.

I heard Ace call out again, with panic in his voice.

So the man didn’t go after Ace. He really did disappear. There was a moment of relief. The numbing feeling was slowly going away. I massaged and hit my legs lightly. I need to get up before Ace gets here, or he will have my ass. The massaging seemed to help, as immediately the numbing sensation was close to completely gone. I was going to have to deal with my nausea later. That and everything that just happened. I slowly got up and immediately headed out towards Ace’s voice.

I pray the girl got away and is safe somewhere. My worries made my nausea worse.

 _Boogeyman._  
  
What the fuck just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone is doing okay and taking care of theirselves! I think I’m slowly getting over my writers block. I appreciate those who left comments, reading them really motivates me and makes me very happy. I hope you enjoyed this update!


	10. Revere

He was mad.

I huffed as I watched him focused, but not on me. He was focused on the little girl, struggling to keep her still as he tried to brush her hair. The girl was on his lap, washed, bandaged, fed, and still in a terrible state. Ace was trying to de-tangle her hair. He was so gentle with her, but his face was still too serious. He was still upset at me.

…But my god he looked so hot.

“Hey,” he muttered softly to the girl as he drew back his hands when she squirmed. However, she did not get off his lap. “Stay still!”

I looked at the girl and stared long and hard, hoping to sear this new, updated state of her progress into my mind and memory. We were truly lucky and blessed. I did not expect this outcome, but I will not question it.

She looked better now that she was cleaned up. She looked softer, more relaxed. There was still a lot to work on, but it was like her whole demeanor and attitude changed the moment she watched the marine ship blow up in flames that night.

Apparently when the girl had left the marine ship, she ran towards the direction of our ship, towards Ace. Ace bewildered at the sight of her running to him instead of away from him – and seeing her for the first time - had to take a minute to process a lot. Her condition was truly worse than he can imagine, even with my vivid descriptions. Despite fearing him, the girl tried to get him to go to the ship to help me. That was why I heard Ace shout that night. When I had stepped out the ship, I was shocked that Ace had the girl in one protective arm, shielding her in a stance before recognizing it was me. The girl had dislocated her shoulder from my shove. Marco had popped it back in the moment we awoke our ship, but that was just the start of an awfully long journey ahead for her. Marco did not even speak that night when he saw her. Again, it was worse than he could have imagined. I told them so.

I continued to watch Ace mutter to the girl to keep still.

Boy was he mad.

Ace has ignored me since then. It has been about four days. It seems I had underestimated just how badly I looked when I had stepped out the ship that night. I had completely forgotten I was bleeding on my right ear. Apparently, I also had a gash on my arm, but the numbness and adrenaline prevented me from noticing it. Marco also later noted that I looked like I had my blood drained out of me from how pale I was. Ace’s look of rage that night still raises goosebumps when I think back on it. When I took a few steps towards him that night, he did not speak. Instead, he raised one hand towards my direction and aimed.

_“Sorry little one,” Ace said in a lowered voice to the girl. “I promise I’ll find you a new home to make up for this.”_

_A shot of fire sped past me in an instant, shocking and scared the lights out of me. The hot gust of wind flew past me to my left, right at the ship. A loud blast sounded behind me and the entire area lit up. I watched the bright flames flicker in the widened eyes of the girl in Ace’s arm. She stared at the burning wreck but not a single fear was in her eyes. He blew the ship up. I still remember the look in her face as she looked up at Ace without a sound._

_"I told you," Ace said in a more polite, stern tone. The voice of Whitebeard's Second Commander. "I told you you should not have gone alone. You're going to report this to First Division."_

_And before I can talk, before I can explain myself, Ace had turned to walk away, the girl still held tightly in his arm._

I quietly sighed to myself as I continued to watch Ace struggle to comb the little girl’s hair.

Why do I get the silent treatment when none of his brothers ever got it?

The girl squirmed off Ace’s lap and ran towards me. She hid behind my chair. Ace stared at her in a fed-up state and looked at me. I stared back. After a second, he got up and walked away. I rolled my eyes as I turned back to look at the girl.

After a couple of thorough washes and a few messy cuts to remove hardened clutters on her hair, the dark green in her hair lightened just a shade. Bandages decorated her face like stickers. Her limbs were all wrapped. But she was more active and livelier, her eyes were still wide and bulging. She was heavily stimulated, being in a new ship and setting. She was now surrounded with so many people, so the only two people she stuck with was me and Ace. The lady who always left food, and the strong shirtless man who destroyed that entire ship with one hand but was somehow still so gentle with her – who also showed the same hunger as her whenever he eats. The way she looks up at Ace’s face that night had shown everything I needed.

I smiled at her. She was staring at me again, but I saw the corners of her mouth twitch up.

I wonder what made her go to Ace. She could’ve run away and hid until the night was over.

I mentally shook off any further thoughts. My focus was now. Before we leave Emerald Isle, we need to figure out what to do with her. I spent so much time worrying about getting to see her in the marine ship again, I did not exactly think through what would happen after.

“You scared of a brush, doll?” I asked her as I patted my lap. She climbed onto my lap, facing me. Her skinny legs swinging at the sides of me. Her hand immediately clung onto my shirt. I brushed her hair away from her face. The girl continued staring at me.

“Why won’t you let the idiot brush your hair? We do not want your hair to get tangled again. I reached over the table for the comb Ace left. “I have one of my own. It’s nice to brush your hair occasionally.” I mimicked brushing my hair with the comb. The girl observed and watched. She touched her head.

“Ouch.”

Her voice was still raspy. Marco had mentioned a possible infection or inflammation, but he was unsure by how easy she was eating. Suddenly, a memory from back in the resort came back. The memory of a woman roughly yanking and brushing my hair, attempting to style it in the process of dolling me up for my first performance. I was a newbie at a ‘ripe’ age. I can present myself, appeal, and entertain. That was my purpose and I should look like it, the woman used to say sternly as the hard comb scraped my scalp. I still remember the hard knot in my throat, the tears in my eyes.

“No ouch,” I said softly as I showed her. I started from the bottom of my hair and mimicked combing my way up. “Try?”

The girl just stared. I touched a section of her hair and started at her ends. We sat there in silence as I continued to comb.

“See? Men are just stupid, that’s all,” I said jokingly, more to myself. “Don’t let that idiot scare you.”

“I trust you’re not talking about me.” I hear a flat voice enter the room. I turn to see Ace had returned.

“Oh, he finally speaks to me!”

He does not respond. The girl stares at Ace and watches him as he walks over to the table. He was carrying a tray mounted with food. He looked at her and a grin broke out. Almost immediately, the girl followed suit to mimic his crooked grin, but her mouth formed more of a snarl than a grin. I held a laugh. She climbed off my lap and hurried over to his side.

I watched in disgust as the two of them devoured the food Ace stole from the kitchen. I was upset that the girl was picking up his behaviors at the dinner table, but seeing her stuff her mouth full of food, seeing crumbs and stains near her mouth, her eager and loud chewing - seeing her eyes brighten in excitement – I really couldn’t complain. I sighed as I watched the table get messier and messier.

“You guys better clean up after yourself.”

I sighed in defeat as nothing was being heard by those two.

I got up and stretched before walking over to the window. Another gorgeous and sunny day at Emerald Isle. I felt lighter, a bit more relieved. Looking out at the horizon, seeing nothing but the vast ocean. No marine ship.

_I’ll send my regards to Mister._

My lips tighten.

I took a deep breath and tried to mentally shake it off. I was too tired. I wanted to focus on the girl for now. I will wait until Marco has contacted and given Pops an update on this. I should really take a break in the meantime.

When was the last time I got to sit by the beach and relax when we were on land?

…In fact, when was the last time I rested since we have arrived here in Emerald Isle?

An idea clicked in my head. Impulsive and excited, I excused myself and walked out the room while Ace and the girl were still busy inhaling their food. I decided to stop by my room.

Sunset was nearing, so I took the chance to head towards the dock. Ace can occupy himself with the girl since he is so busy ignoring me. I was going to take this chance to escape and catch a break. It was thrilling – I have not felt this sort of excitement in a while. This must be how people felt when they were going on vacation. The emerald sea seemed vaster and more expansive with the marine ship now gone. Jumping off with ease, I grasped my backpack tighter and I rushed off towards the direction of orange hues in the sky. I did not know where I was heading, but I will figure it out. This was thrilling.

I walked along the shore, the sand soft but the seashells poking and tickling me. As my eyes still stayed on the orange hues ahead of me, the sky above me a beautiful purple. I hummed to myself as I walked, ignoring other few folks I happened to pass by. Majority of them were just locals and town folks who were also out for a walk. A lot were teens and young adults, who have united with friends in their regular hang out spots. I ignored the stares I was getting. I was not a local after all.

When I finally found an area more secluded, I dropped my backpack onto the sand and looked at the water. It was breathtaking. The waves were alluring and enchanting. I felt myself hold my breath. I slowly took off my clothes and tossed them on top of my backpack.

Thank god I thought to buy a swimsuit during our travels. Though the bikini hugged a bit more snuggly at my hip than I had remembered the last time I tried them on, I did not mind. I pulled them up to where I felt most comfortable with when wearing any kind of bottom, – high on my waist. I slowly walked up to the shore, holding my breath again. The sea salt air was refreshing. A wave of emotion washed over me and grew stronger with each crashing wave I watched. I did not comprehend what I was experiencing, but I loved it. I hope time freezes for a moment, just for me.

The moment my feet touched the warm waters, an unnatural shiver coursed through my body. Almost instinctively, my body forced me forward and took a smooth stride right into an upcoming wave.

When was the last time I swam?

I felt my panic become mute by this overwhelming sense of assurance and familiarity and I naturally moved my arms and legs. I was so happy I could cry.

I continued to swim. I do not know how long I swam but I swam back and forth, again and again without a hint of exhaustion. A surge of energy had taken hold of me and I felt the need to swim as much as I can. I was somehow breathing easier than I had expected. Waves did not even affect my movement. I dived deeper than I had expected. Fish and sea creatures from below did not sense a single threat or intrusion from me. I felt like a neighbor who finally came back to visit. Like person who realized you cannot ever forget how to ride a bicycle no matter how long ago you’ve learned it. The overwhelming emotion was swelling inside me. I swam back up and turned on my back to watch the sky as I allowed myself to float towards the direction of the growing hues of orange and pink.

Before I knew it, I was crying. Tears were flowing out my eyes before I could process it. My ears were muffled and comforted by the ocean as it hugged me warmly. It felt familiar.

After a few moments, a vision of a woman appeared in the back of my head. She was a beautiful woman. Her cheekbones sat high like royalty. Her eyes glowed gold, warm and vibrant, but her eyes showed sadness and pain. Her green hair floated around her face and danced like ribbons. She was submerged underwater, looking up at me, taking in every single feature of my face as I remember doing the same for her. I seem to be grabbing onto her, trying to pull her up with me with no success.

 _Dahlia._  
  
Time always seemed to slow down underwater. Debris and massive shards were slowly falling around us. Light hit her face and revealed the translucent and pearlescent scales, so subtle that you had to take a double take. She was speaking to me. Although I heard a voice come out, no bubbles of air came out her mouth. She was smiling, even though her eyes expressed pain. They were glowing even brighter. She cupped my face, keeping my dreaded fear away with her warmth.  
  
_Sweet Dahlia._  
  
From just the touch of her fingertips on my face, I felt the warmth spread through me like a crisp fresh breath of air. Suddenly I felt like I was not holding my breath. My heart was beating easier. I watched the woman before me display one of the most beautiful, warmest smiles. Her eyes swept my face once more before she gave one final push, sending me upwards. The light in her eyes faded and she slowly turned to stone. My grip on her slips and I watch her sink down into the depths of the dark waters.

“Dally!”

The vision of dark green faded as I found myself staring at a dark purple sky. I took a slow, deep breath. The waves were a bit stronger as it firmly nudged and slapped the sides of my face and body. I was still drifting on my back. I slowly lifted my hands up to my field of vision, not caring about the big droplets of water falling into my eyes. I stared at my fingers.

“Dahlia!”

This time, I recognized Ace’s anger and panic. I turned over and looked towards the direction of his voice. I was a bit taken back at how ridiculously far I was from the shore. He was almost a tiny speck. For him to yell that loud-

Upon that realization, I immediately waved my hand up and started swimming at an easy speed with just my feet. Underwater, I looked at my fingers again. Looking past it, I looked at the sea creatures and fish below me, still unbothered by my movements.

Why weren’t my hands pruned and wrinkled?

Within minutes, I was nearing the shore. As I got closer, I noticed Ace was carrying the girl in one arm. As usual, her face was bug-eyed, just watching me in silence and in wonder. Ace’s face was still tense with concern and worry.

“Sorry,” I called out as I slowed down. With my body still completely submerged in water, I stuck my head further out the waters. “I got way too into it.”

Ace could not speak. He was clenching his jaw. He looked like he was finding words to say. I continued.

“How long were you calling out to me? I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ace lifted the girl a bit higher. “Princess here kept looking for you, so we decided to have an adventure in search for you before she started panicking.”

I grinned at the little girl. She was clutching onto Ace’s beaded necklace.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her. I paused for a moment.

“So you’re gonna get out of the waters or just stay there until you’re a prune?”

I scoffed. “Don’t hate because you can’t swim anymore.”

Ace grinned at me for the first time in a while. I could not help but grin back as he replied. “Must be nice. Wish I can join you.”

I can only _wish_. A sight to behold – a swimming Ace, and then a drenched Ace. I mentally pulled my head out the gutter.

My body almost ached stepping out onto the shore. The air was chilly. I wanted to jump back into the ocean. I sighed and immediately walked towards them, my eyes on the girl.

“So you managed to comb her hair.” I teasingly touched the little girl’s nose. Her face in disgust from the wetness and roughly wiped her nose. When I did not get a response from Ace, I looked up at him.

His eyes were widened, his mouth slightly apart. He was staring at me. His eyes traveled all over my wet hair and face, but he did not dare look any lower. My cheeks and ears immediately heat up as I realized just how much of my skin was exposed. He was still staring.

“A-Ace?”

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. He turned his head away to look at the girl. “Was a badass. Even took over at one point and combed her own hair.” He gave the little girl’s hair a gentle ruffle. The girl hissed, but she clutched his necklace tighter.

I Focused back on her, trying my hardest to ignore that I was fully aware Ace’s eyes were back on me again.

“See,” I spoke softly to her. “No ouch?”

The girl gave me the smallest whisper of a smile, and my heart soared. Such an innocent, shy smile. Before I can help it, my face broke out into one of the happiest smiles I felt from my own body. The girl looked at my face in awe and her smile grew more apparent than before. Her face looked alive, animated. 

A gush of wind gently swept past me and it felt so nice I had to close my eyes for a second. Small wet strands of my hair clung onto my face. Water was still dripping from my face and body. I looked back at the shore and at the sky. The hues of pink and purple were beautiful. I took a deep breath, hoping that somehow, I can breathe in this memory and let it circulate within my blood.

I turned back around to look at Ace again. There it was again. That genuine admiration. The sweeping of his gray eyes on the features of my face, my hair. I gave him a small smile. My heart leaped watching his cheeks flush a tinge of red and him, too lost in his own thoughts to notice his blush was very apparent. Even the little girl was staring up at him, watching him, her own mouth slightly opened.

“Should we…head back?” I started softly, feeling weaker and more helpless by the second as I continued to look at him.

I cannot describe this soaring feeling I felt watching him play out in slow motion. It was like watching the sun hold its breath - only for me. Enchanted by me. Stopping because of me. Shining his light only for me. My heart could fly out my chest any second, knowing that only I can bask in this light. 

“…Yeah,” Ace said breathlessly. “Y-Yeah.”

I walked past him for my belongings. Grabbing them in one hand, I walked ahead of them, eyes glued onto the shore as the red sunset casted another spotlight on the glistening waters.

 _Till next time, my friend,_ I mentally spoke out to the ocean. My heart ached.

I notice Ace was not by my side yet and wondered what the hell was dragging his feet. Still walking, I looked back to check on him and the girl, only to catch Ace quickly looking away. I did my best to hide my amusement. Well, what do you know? Ace is a grown man.

“I know the sight is beautiful here,” I started politely. “But stop dragging your feet, Ace. We can catch the sunset before our small party starts.” Whitebeard Pirates will find any excuse to drink and party. This time, their excuse was that the girl slept for the first time last night since she had been with us. First and Second Division agreed it was good enough. I agree.

I heard his footsteps in the sand quicken, and the little girl gently called out to Ace in a concerned tone.

“Idiot?”

I giggled to myself as I hear Ace quietly shush her.


	11. Moments Stolen

“Huh.”

That was all Marco could say before he went quiet. I stood by the windowsill of his room.  
“He’s alive,” I concluded. I felt I already knew all along, but the confirmation was something I wish I never got.  
Before our dinner starts, I wanted to stop by Marco’s room. Ever since I got back from my swim and set foot back into reality, I could not stop thinking about my encounter with the stranger that night. It felt unsettling. I explained to Marco in more detail exactly what happened - from my inference of him being the person our girl referred to as the ‘Boogeyman’, my inability to move, to what he had said. In fact, there was a lot of questions both me and Marco had found confusing about our little girl. We talked about her sudden change in attitude after that night. Why did she, who was so alert, paranoid, and guarded, suddenly dropped that entire demeanor? Of course, every person deals and overcomes events very differently. But it was so immediate, she did not even freak out the moment Marco, a complete stranger, had touched her and had to _pop_ her shoulder back in. For such a tiny, young, starved girl, that is a lot in itself. But she did not even flinch nor make a sound. She sat just clutching onto Ace, her eyes refusing to leave me. And ever since then, she never stopped holding onto us.  
Another thing that had concern Marco and I was her first few nights on board with us. She refused to sleep. The first two nights I had stayed up with her because she refused to let me sleep. Fear was in her eyes and she would shake me up whenever I drifted off to sleep. By second night, she had eased on this, and instead took it upon herself to keep watch over me as I fell asleep. Whenever I stirred in the middle of the night, I saw her sitting up on my bed next to me, peering out my window as she held onto my hand. Every morning when I woke up, a sense of relief appears on her face, and she is calm again. By third day, after I woke up, she felt the need to run out and check on Ace and Marco. She tapped them by placing a hand on their leg and feeling them, as if making sure they were real. This was her morning routine since then.  
“Well, one thing is for sure,” Marco’s soft voice broke me out of my thoughts. “We are not surprised, are we?”  
“No,” I admitted. “I do not think I will ever be unless I see Mister’s dead body myself.”  
Marco stayed quiet. He was sinking back to his world of thoughts. Sometimes I wonder how his mind looked like, because just watching him contemplate was something very comforting to see. Something about him reminded me of Pops. The way he would fall silent as he thought and mentally mapped things out – you can see it on his face. It was never a stressed or frustrated expression. It was wise and calm – something anyone with a troubled mind would wish to achieve. There was a sense of assurance and trust. Everything will be alright under the mindset of them.  
“Marco,” I started again. “There’s also something else.”  
I told him what happened during my swim. And as I continued with my details, Marco’s brows slowly furrowed in intense focus. Something was dawning on him, and he was thinking more and more. Even after I was done, he was completely silent.  
“I don’t know,” I ended. “There’s something about this place here, Marco. This feeling of familiarity.”  
Marco was still quiet, but again, something was running through his head and it seemed like he was still trying to piece them together before telling me. He was staring at me intensely. I shifted in my place.  
“Dally,” he called out softly, his eyes never leaving me. “You look better after your swim.”  
“I feel better,” I said contently. “I feel energized.”  
“Your cuts and gash are gone.”  
  
I turned to look at my arm. In fact, there were not even scabs. But I looked at my wrists and hands. My old scars were still there.  
“Guess it wasn’t as serious of an injury,” I said. “It healed well.”  
Marco was quiet again. We stayed like this for a while. I have never seen Marco this lost in thought. My entire stay so far has been nothing but an unsettling stomach. Everything was just confusing to me. As I continued to stare at Marco, I remember the first time I was thrown off when we headed towards here.  
First of all…First _and_ Second division? Over one small island?  
This was supposed to be a quick stop. A quick look, and we were to rejoin the rest of Whitebeard. Marco, as the leading commander overseeing over a thousand crew members, did not need to accompany their _Second_ Commander - for a small, discreet, and local island. Why did Whitebeard order his top two commanders here?  
Everything was overwhelmingly confusing since we had Emerald Isle on our radar.  
“Dahlia.”  
I looked up to see Marco’s serious face.  
“You need to start training.”  
I stayed quiet. I did not know what to say because I knew he was right. But there was a hint of warning that I could not put my finger on. There was something he was hiding from me.  
“What’s up with you, Marco?”  
“You need to start training. You’re strong, but only when you rage,” Marco paused for a minute. “To be honest it’s frightening when you’re raging. A whole different person. But you don’t even know what you’re doing, right?”  
I hated to admit but I answered anyway. “No. No I don’t.”  
“I get it,” Marco said as he grabbed his cup of tea and leaned back on his chair. “The strength that comes out of your instinct to survive can sometimes be unparalleled for some folks. But you are no longer surviving. So now you need to protect and maintain yourself in order to protect others.”  
I sighed. He was right. “I know I know. Recovery’s a bitch, Marco.”  
I proceeded to tell him about my senses and how at certain moments, memories would trigger and put my guard down. I hallucinate to the point where sometimes I cannot tell the difference between past and present. The pairs of eyes that haunt me whenever I accidently let the piercing eyes of Pops slip from my mind, the sounds that I would remember and would countlessly echo in my mind. The bubbling sound that would come up at random – moments where I knew I fucked up because I felt physically stuck in memories I have repressed so much of. It seems lately, my guard is always vulnerable. Marco sits and listens. He always listens. He always provides patience and will not speak until I choose to stop. When I was finished, he took a minute to think before he spoke.  
“All I can say is to be patient with yourself, Dahlia.” Marco looks at me in the eyes. “You owe it to yourself, now more than ever. Besides, you got us. You can take your time to find your pace.”  
“I haven’t told you yet,” Marco added. “But Pops has been on his way here, Dahlia.”  
I stared at him. “What?”  
He looked out the window. “Actually, he should be here any time now. He set sail th-“  
“Wait, wait. Why is Pops coming here?”  
Marco refuses to look at me. He keeps looking out the window. The sky has already darkened, our crew members were chatting up a storm outside.  
“He’s worried. He said we took way too long here.”  
“Were you not keeping him updated?”  
“I have,” Marco looks back at me. “And it’s exactly why he said he was changing course after they stopped by one of our supply islands.”  
“Why?”  
Marco sighed. He was looking down at his cup of tea.  
“Marco.”  
“Honestly, I don’t know myself yet. I have a theory, but I don’t know.” Marco’s eyes traveled back to me. “But I think Pops knows more.”  
“Well Pops really isn’t the type to have teatime with me,” I crossed my arms. “What is this all about?”  
Marco sighed in defeat. “I spoke to some townsfolks during our stay here. It has been…interesting. I tried to find out how long that marine ship has been here. Their recollection is a bit hazy, a bit rough in estimate, so we cannot really rely on it. But what’s interesting is their common superstitions.”  
“Superstitions?” I stood up and walked towards his desk. “What superstitions?”  
“Kids are taught not to go near the marine ship. Lesson is to never touch the ship, or you’ll bring home something you don’t want, and it’ll replace you before your family notices. There are different versions in how you disappear, but I guess that’s where parents’ get creative in scaring their kids.  
Apparently, the ship had docked roughly a year ago. But aged within a week to what we saw now. Locals treat it as an omen and since then has not even looked its direction. A lot of people ignore it or barely approach it. Kids and teens spread scary stories and ghost stories, but all of them were also quite common. Someone on a dare attempting to approach the ship, only to see a ghost of a tiny girl – which I am guessing was our girl.”  
Well, I’m not surprised. Even I thought I saw a ghost.  
“However,” Marco continued. “ I was curious to _how_ it got so culturally rooted,”  
Marco paused and downed the rest of his tea. “How, after a year, does the entire island collectively stay fearing a ship? Even new marine ships who stop by here do not dock near nor visit their own rotting ship, apparently. I think that further instigated the locals’ superstitions, but also confirmed their distrust towards the marines.”  
I scoffed. “Rightfully so.”  
Marco smiled. “There’s another thing.”  
He got up and walked past me towards the window. He gestured me to come closer as he pointed out towards the island’s highest mountain. It looked like any normal mountain, lush with trees and greenery. I noticed the secluded area I visited prior was near the base of the mountain, right at the outskirts. But nothing else worth noting.  
“A witch doctor. ‘Baba’.”  
I cocked my head at Marco. “A witch doctor?”  
“Yeah,” Marco walked back towards his seat. “When the marine ship arrived, it was a ghost ship. Completely empty. And ‘Baba’, who apparently never comes down unless someone is sick or there’s an upcoming death, came to the shore and spent the entire night standing there, staring at the ship. Since then, she warns folks to never to go out to the shore at night, in fear that you’d bring something home.”  
This was sounding more and more like some folklore. I was baffled. In a semi-disbelief.  
“Hold on,” I paused, before letting out a laugh. “Hold on.”  
“I know,” Marco held up a hand. “But there are witch doctors. They live for hundreds of years, Dally.”  
“You’ve met one?!”  
“Yep.”  
I’m speechless. There was a lot to take in.  
“She had given the folks a warning that seemed to have shaken them,” Marco said slowly as he recollect his memories. “She said, ‘Our guardian Deasura can no longer reach the shore at night – it cannot reach us.’”  
“Deasura…” I repeated softly. Deasura.  
“A goddess of Earth and Water. This town has a long histor-”  
Pounding sounded on Marco’s door. It was a crew member announcing the Moby Dick was approaching. Marco sighed, exhausted. He tidied up his area as he was about to head out.  
“Listen,” Marco starts as he sees me in disbelief. “There’s a lot. All I know is, from what I hear from locals, and what I’m hearing from you – and now finding this girl, I just think it’s worth staying in this island a bit longer. Just to make sure nothing happens, since the marine ship is now gone.”  
Marco held his breath for a second before continuing. “I’m not sure what it is but something doesn’t feel right.”  
Despite my many questions, I sighed in defeat. “No, you’re right.”

\--

“Wow,” Ace said amusingly. “As if tonight couldn’t be anymore odd.”  
He was close next to me on my left, elbows leaning against the table as he watched the crew roar and laugh. I was facing away, occupied with my own drink and food. I was starving. I must have been swimming a lot more than I thought, because my stomach was handling a lot more portions than I usually do.  
I looked up at him and saw he was looking at my plate. I shoved a hand onto his face and gently pushed. “Get your own plate.”  
He still managed to grab a bite from the bread I was holding up. I grunted in irritation as I shoved him more aggressively again, jamming the remaining bread into his mouth.  
“Look at her,” he said through his chewing and nudged me at the side. I twisted around to look back right as I heard Pops roar in laughter.  
What we had thought was going to be a small celebration had turned back to our usual nights. A whole entire family of our crew on Whitebeard Pirates’ main ship, loud and boisterous when drunk. I am relieved none of the locals live close to the shore.  
‘Princess’, as Ace liked to call her, was fighting with Thatch for the remaining fruit he had brought with him. She was swift since she was so small and light, easily climbing him like a tree, and jumping away if Thatch had tried to grab her - a whole shit show as the girl made a clown out of him. Izo and Fossa, faces flushed with alcohol, were laughing and taunting Thatch. Whenever Pops roared from laughter, Princess paused in fear, before relaxing after making sure it was only Pops.  
I’m silent when I think back to when the fleet had arrived just an hour ago. There was an odd silence between us as Pops looked down on me from his ship. I had stood by the shore, awaiting with my hands on my hips, expecting an answer as to what was the commotion about that required an entire fleet on such a tiny island.

_“It will be my territory now,” Whitebeard simply said, eyes holding onto my own stare. My temple had twitched as he turned away to face Marco and Ace. “Now surely you don’t think this is enough rum and food for a celebration tonight!”_

“Are you still thinking about that?” Ace questioned and gently pushed my shoulder with his. “Pops taking this land?”  
“Yeah.” I said with my mouth full. I jabbed a piece of meat. “I have no issue with it. Just a lot of questions.”  
“He has his reasons.” Ace said firmly. And that was that. I sucked my teeth and grabbed my pint of beer. I feel Ace’s eyes on me and I hear him shift his body so he’s properly sitting at the table.  
“Trust Pops.”  
“I do,” I said with emphasis. I sighed. “I just want to know _what_ I’m trusting him for. I’m a curious cat, Ace!”  
Boy it was hot. I tied my hair up and grabbed my pint. After raising our drinks at each other, we both downed our pint and simultaneously let out a gassy burp.  
“But yeah,” I continued. “It’s nice to see Princess feeling a bit more at ease, especially with a whole swarm of people.”  
I twisted around again to look at her. Thatch’s hair was a mess. She was eating her fruit now, eyes bright and starry-eyed as she unashamedly stared up at Pops, legs slightly apart in a dominating stance. Pops, along with his group of nurses, were laughing.  
“She climbs and stands like Luffy,” Ace couldn’t hold onto his laughter. “When he would just cling onto your head like that, my god that was annoying.”  
I laughed. “That’s adorable.”  
“Not when you’re being suffocated by his legs and arms wrapping around you.”  
“She reminds me of when I was younger,” I related. “Back then, I was ready to fight anyone down for food.”  
“Survival of the fittest,” Ace amused. “Inhale it before people inhale you!”  
“Exactly!” I broke out into fits of laughter as I remembered the amount of primal behavior whenever eating.  
I twisted more to see the girl, majority of my body facing Ace as I watched contently. Our knees were touching. I seemed to have been unaware exactly how close Ace was to me. I can practically smell him from here. I wonder if it was inappropriate to ask what kind of soap he used. I cleared my throat and stared straight ahead as I felt Ace’s eyes on me again.  
“You look good.”  
My heart jumped. I should sucker punch him right now for always doing that to me. I looked up at him. He was studying my face.  
“W-What?”  
“You look good,” Ace said again. “You look better than you have been for the past few days. “  
  
Oh.

“Right,” I laughed it off. “I don’t know, something in the water here,” I joked. Ace chuckled.  
“Yeah, your cuts and bruises are gone. Finally, you got some color back on you too.”  
“Keep going, I always love when you flatter me.”  
Ace shook his head and ate off my plate as I continued to watch our girl.  
“I’m sorry, by the way.”  
I turned to look at Ace again. He continued.  
“Sorry for ignoring you like that. I know I was being childish.”  
“I get it,” I replied quietly. “I was being stubborn, and I put myself at risk. But you’re forgiven.”  
“Dahlia, you’re no longer a one-man show. You’re a Whitebeard Pirate now,” Ace looked at me. “We are all in this together, so you cannot be the only one bearing weight on your shoulders. Got that?”  
“Seems both of us need to learn that,” I spoke softly, my eyes not leaving his.  
He stared at me, still chewing quietly. He gave me a soft smile before nudging my shoulder again. I laughed.  
“Hey, Dahlia!” Someone called out to me. I turned to them and gave a nod of acknowledgement. Ace did not look around.  
“If Lover Boy would be kind enough,” Another familiar voice chimed in. I felt Ace stiffen, but did not turn around. “Perhaps he would lend us some of your time. Entertain us would ya?”  
“Shut up Izo!” Ace shouted out into the air, still refusing to turn around. I can sense his arm reaching over my plate again. A few snickers were heard among the Moby Dick.  
I got up and stretched, my ears burning. I dramatically bowed to my crew members. “Pay me then, ya bastards!”  
A couple of our crew members hooted.  
Ace shook his head as he grabbed my plate to finish it. “Here we go.”  
“One song and one song only,” Whitebeard said under his chuckles. There was a hint of warning under his tone that I picked up.  
Every now and then during our lively, drunken nights like these, I take it upon myself to entertain the crew with a bit of my singing. Often, they were classic songs most pirates knew, other times it was a song I would make up on the spot. Give me a guitar, a piano, a violin – anything. I can string up a story within minutes, I can get a crowd to chant whatever I want to, in tune and in melody to my control. I can make them laugh, make them cry, make them mourn over a life I birthed a second ago from my own figment of imagination. But oddly, Pops had two strict rules. One: I was to sing no sad songs. Two: One song only. Either way, it worked for me, as I never cared whether I was singing and entertaining the crew or not. And I no longer had enough of a broken soul to sing anymore sad songs.  
Singing was always fun. Even during my time at the resort. It was honestly one of the things that kept me going. There was comfort in music. I was able to express myself freely with music when I was living in a place where you were punished for attempting to do so. So any chance I had, I’d rather perform if needed. But now, I am no longer at the resort. My options are not limited, but instead endless. I don’t need to rely on song, even if it is a natural talent. After years of my natural talent exploited for other people’s priority and purposes, it doesn’t hurt to give it a rest. So I never minded entertaining the crew on occasions – especially when it’s by my own free will now. Style, tone and attitude did not have to be ‘polished’, I did not need any kind of ‘allure’, despite how the admiration of these men still showed on their faces, despite the look on Ace’s flushed face each time. I did not have to ‘appeal’ to anyone, I was not forcing myself. I was having fun, and it even remained that way when the song ends.  
As I sung and watched my happy family stomp and cheer and chant along to my upbeat song, the lyrics full of crude language of a made up story, I watched the little girl stand in the middle, eyes in awe, in a trance. Again, that face of wonder, of learning. Her mouth slightly open again, no longer aware of her surroundings, just willingly lost in the moment. But for a split second under our lights, her eyes seemed to glow. Every now and then I had to do a double take.  
Ace was no longer at the table we shared. Instead, along with Thatch and Deuce, they were thumping against an empty barrel to the beat of my rhythm, encouraging two crewmates in a middle of a drinking challenge to see who was to knock out first. Everyone was in a chaotic mess, all the while still chanting and shouting in unison. A sight to see and remember. The liveliness, the crudeness, the wildness and bare feeling of just being whatever you would like. These performances are more memorable to me than all the times at the resort. I stare before me with open eyes, taking in the view. No longer do I have to close my eyes against a harsh, cold spotlight.

\--

I took a deep breath and sighed in satisfaction as I stare up at the half moon. Leaning back on one arm, I pet the Princess’s head with the other, softly. Her head laid on my lap, knocked out and sound asleep. I’m surprised that in the midst of so much noise through the night, she was able to fall asleep. Must have been all the exerted energy tonight.  
It was silent. Everyone was passed out drunk. It should be almost two hours left before sunrise. The sky already lightened to a gentle sea green. It was breathtaking. 

_Deasura._

Goddess of Land and Water, huh? I wonder if she sees this sky every morning.  
  
I stare up at the sky, the moon not yet threatened by daybreak. I hear someone sit close to my left. A deep, exhausted sigh. I chuckled as I turn to look at him.  
Ace always looked beautiful, in any light. I don’t know how many times I’ve mentally noted this. Maybe I do like him better without his hat. The light breeze allowed small strands to graze his face. He was also looking up at the sky. His face and chest were a tinge of crimson. He drank throughout the entire night, and yet he was not drunk. I figured he was probably at most, lightly buzzed. He did sway a bit, but there was still a hint of soberness in his eyes. A peaceful smile plastered on his face.  
“You better chug a barrel of water after this,” I commented as I softly placed my hand over Princess’s ear.  
Ace grinned. “If you can wake me up.”  
I smiled. I looked back up at the sky again.

  
Suddenly, Ace hiccupped.

  
I froze. Did I just-  
  
He hiccupped again.

I slowly turned to him.  
“Son of a bitch,” I spoked out in realization. “ Are you drunk-“  
“No.”  
“I believe you are.”  
“Stop believing.”  
My mouth was slightly open. I’ve never seen Ace drunk.

“You’re drun-“  
“Tipsy. I-I’m tipsy, Dally.” His voice was low and a bit breathless. I think I’m in heaven. His voice was already attractive enough. This was just unfair. This was such a rare thing to see and hear, I was tempted to keep him entertained just for the sake of it. My mouth was still open.  
“Shut up Dally.”  
I cannot control my fits of laughter. Ace just stares at me, waiting for me to finish. But I cannot control my giggles, even when I’m covering my mouth, trying my best to keep it together.  
“I am honored to be witness,” I said sarcastically in between my fits. “This is adorable. This is too good.”  
I watch Ace’s face turn into a helpless expression and my heart leaped. It was such an adorable face. I can almost squeal in delight.  
“There’s nothing adorabl-“ He closed his mouth to muffle a hiccup. “Nothing adorable.”  
“Everything can be when it’s you,” I said warmly and softly. He just stares. I looked back at the sky.

I’m home.

I don’t know why it suddenly came to mind, but it rang out in my head. I’m home. This is home. Despite staring at the sky, I could not shake off the image of Ace with such peaceful smile.

Home.

A second later, my thoughts were completely interrupted by Ace’s breathless voice, so soft and gentle, so full of yearning and delicacy.

“You’re so beautiful.”

My mind went blank. I paused as I tried to swallow down my heart. Then, I slowly turned to look at him again, but was met with a soft kiss on the cheek. I stayed still, as I felt another soft kiss on the tip of my shoulder. The touch of his lips was so soft and slow, my heart ached. Waft of vetiver and alcohol surrounded me. The breeze led Ace’s hair to tickle my neck. Then, in a blink of an eye, it was gone, along with the warmth on my shoulder. Ace was back to staring up at the sky, leaning against his hands.  
I felt woozy. I felt lightheaded. I even felt myself sway. My head was not thinking. Heart pounding, I turned to him.  
His flush was close to gone now. He looked very sober. This peaceful look on his face was so rare, so sacred. I wonder what he was thinking. I was speechless. Like another confirmation I didn’t need, I knew in full certainty.  
Time seemed to suddenly slow down as I leaned over towards him. The crashing of the waves seemed so far away. The sky seemed to grow lighter. The sun was rising as I felt warm light shine on us. Leaning closer, his scent enveloped me again. I placed a gentle kiss close to the corner of his mouth. I felt him slightly lean in closer to me. I place longer kiss on his shoulder. I feel him turn my way, taking in a deep, slow breath.  
  
I knew this man will break my heart.  
  
Before I can recollect myself when I pulled back, heavy loud footsteps sounded and came closer to us from behind. I already knew it was Pops. Both Ace and I straightened up.  
  


“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Whitebeard spoke out. “Thought it should be the right time to visit.”  
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, relieved and still praying Pops did not see anything. I was not retaining anything Pops was saying in my head. I turned around to look at him. He was looking around the view before us, as if searching for something.  
“Pops,” Ace called out, his voice still a bit drowsy. I noticed his ears were red. “What are you searching for?”  
Pops looked back at the sunrise before he continued looking around. “Should be anytime now.”  
And right at that moment, Whitebeard’s eyes locked onto something ahead. I followed his direction. Out in the distance, a figure emerged from the shrouded trees far ahead, near a few meters away from the secluded area I had visited earlier. It moved slow and steady. It was a human figure. At that moment, Princess jolted up awake immediately, eyes alert. She whipped around to look at the same direction.  
We all watched in silence as this figure approached slowly, until they finally reached an area hit by natural light. It was a person with a staff. The figure seemed like it was a woman draped and completely covered from head to toe. Only her eyes were seen, which glowed. Wrinkles decorated them. My heart came to a stop. The same golden glow. I suddenly stood up. I feel Pop’s hand on my shoulder.  
When she was near enough, she paused and looked up at us. First Princess, then me, then Pops. She stared long and hard at Pops. Pops did the same. I couldn’t make out their expressions.  
“My my,” she spoke calmly, eyes never leaving Pops. Her voice was deep. Words slipped out her mouth like nicely aged sake. It was something alluring in her harsh voice, so firm and wise. “How far you’ve come.”  
“And you look the same, old hag,” Whitebeard’s crooked grin displayed on his face.  
The old woman looked back at Princess. Princess’s expression was emotionless, but she was not scared. She seemed almost calm. Then the woman looked back at me. It felt like minutes dragged by before she spoke again.  
“Dahlia.”


	12. Origins

“Come.”

  
The woman speaks this as a command before turning away from us. She lifts an arm under her long shawl and drops a light bundle of thin – almost aged, chopped wood. Using her staff to balance herself, she bends down to pick up a handful of sand and sprinkles it over the wood. With a gentle wave of her hand, the pieces of wood lit on fire. The flames were hues of azure. My eyes widened at the sight. I look around. Pops did not even bat an eye. Princess the same. I catch Ace’s eyes and see the same level of shock I have. There is no way she can control fire. Ace holds that Devil Fruit. Did she also have a Devil Fruit? What powers does she have?

Before I can process what I am seeing, Princess heads towards the edge of the Moby Dick to climb down. Worried, I took a step forward, wanting to warn her to be careful. But before I can speak, Princess leaps down with ease and slowly walks towards the old woman. I feel Pops pat my shoulder before giving me a gentle push forward. Standing there speechless, I look back at Ace again. He also has a similar dumbstruck look and tries to also take a step forward, but Whitebeard signals him to stand back. Ace immediately stops, just looking at me in confusion. I look back up at Pops. His eyes soften as he gives me a gentle nod. Hesitantly, I proceed to head off the ship. If Pops says to follow, surely, I do not need to worry.  
  
“I expect her back on the ship, Baba,” Pops calls out to the woman. “We don’t leave here until _my_ daughter is back.”  
  
The woman named Baba paid him no mind nor his emphasis on his words. She stabs her staff into the sand before seating herself onto the ground, waiting patiently. Her staff was made of what seems like oak, the structure of the staff twisting and turning like a dragon, its shape rough and ragged. But it made it more beautiful. What looked like dark, thin vines wrapped and enveloped all around it, reaching all the way up the staff to encase a large black obsidian stone on top. Princess sat across from her, in front of the fire. As I was approaching, I watch in silence as the old woman reveals herself.  
  
There is elegance in her motions, like time bowed before her and her every breath. White, long hair was revealed, her coils tight and lush. It shone in such a luxurious luster I held my breath for a second. In the gentle sunlight, a light tint of teal can be seen when her hair moved with the breeze. When she removed the shawl and let it fall at her waist, what looked like markings or dark, fading tattoos were all over her face, shoulders, and arms. It wrapped around her like veins. She gently grabs another handful of sand and looks towards the direction of Moby Dick. As I get closer, she holds her hand close to her mouth and blows the sand in my direction. Sand flew above me and instantly, everything around us fall silent. Not a single crashing of the waves, the light snores of drunken men from afar – everything was silent. I no longer sense Pops or Ace behind me. I whip around.  
  
Instead of seeing our ships and the shore, I see old stones covered in moss. I find myself surrounded by greenery. What seems like old ruins were covered in moss and vines. I was overwhelmed when I looked up at the massive roots of nearby fig and apple trees, almost devouring these stacked stones, twisting and turning, clutching onto these ruins like they were clinging for their lives. Despite the heavy forestation, sunlight still hit and the vibrant colors of plants stimulated my senses. At the center, amongst the vines buried an old statue. A woman holding a scepter in one hand and what seemed to be a distaff in the other. She was visible from the waist up, but the rest of her was completely shrouded in moss and roots. The crown on her slightly chipped head was gold, but it was covered in dust. However, the emerald jewels encrusted in the crown was not. It reminded me of the waters on this island whenever the sunlight hit. Drops of water sounded throughout the place and resonated a type of tranquility in me. Despite hearing it, I almost felt it within myself. I slowly turned back around, my eyes continue to graze all over the place. We were between the entrance of some ruins and at the top of dangerously steep, jagged stone steps that seems to go down infinitely before it was swallowed by the forest. I noticed this place looked out and beyond the island. I can see the ocean. I looked to the shore on my right and saw the giant Moby Dick, as small as a miniature toy. It seems we were at the mountain.  
  
By the opening entrance behind the woman lied a pond hidden from the sunlight under vines that draped from a tree to a wall of the old ruins. Water from the vines above dripped into the pond a steady, consistent pace. In the pond were a variety of fish, but what made me hold my breath was the jewels that ornamented their bodies.  
  
“Breathe, Dahlia.” The woman’s voice rang out, almost making me jump in surprise. I did not realize I was holding my breath. Baba is standing up now.  
  
“How do you know my name?”  
  
“Deasura knows all the descendants and those they’ve touched,” Baba spoke as she looks down at Princess still sitting, looking out into the ocean. “Even those who are led astray.”  
  
Her eyes glowed gold again as she waves a hand to gesture Princess to come closer. Slowly, almost in a trance, Princess obeyed. I watch as Baba leads Princess over to the pond. Baba pulls on some of the vines, and a hole opens up from above, casting in more sunlight directly onto the water. She crouches down to be on the same level as Princess and begins examining her. She holds her face, her arm, her legs. She even lifts her shirt to check and lightly press on her stomach.  
  
“My child, do you remember your name?”  
  
Princess did not speak. Baba’s eyes softened.  
  
“Time away really does a lot of damage.”  
  
Then, Baba scoops up a handful of water from the pond. The fish do not seem bothered by the sudden disruption. In fact, they seem to swim towards her hand. Despite majority of the water spilling out, she holds it close to Princess’s mouth.  
  
“One small sip is more than enough. Drink.”  
  
When Princess held onto the woman’s hand to take a sip, the movement from the fishes in the pond changed. They quiver and whip their tails, the gems on their bodies twinkle through the water. Although Princess is not facing me, I watch in shock as a tinge of color on her legs and arms change from her sickly paleness to a warmer, flushed color. I find myself holding my breath again, watching her small shoulders relax and draw back. The old woman is speaking something to her, but in a completely different and foreign language. Her eyes then turn to me and she waves her hand for me to also come forward. Without another thought, I feel my feet move.  
  
As I approach the two of them, I finally see Princess up close. Her eyes are no longer red; they were not as sunken. Although her deeper injuries were still there, her lips are not as chapped, and the more minor, surface level scrapes and cuts that Marco was not able to heal with his powers were now gone. I suddenly think back to when my own injuries suddenly disappeared yesterday. My heart beats faster.  
  
“Drink,” Baba says to me. She also holds her hand up to my mouth. “One sip.”  
  
I took a tiny sip. It was surprisingly warm, like boiled water set out to cool. I felt its warmth travel down to my stomach as I listen to Baba speak to Princess again in the same foreign language. I clenched my hands from this odd feeling. My stomach felt full, like I just ate a feast. I feel a rush of energy. Each breath I took was so crisp and mint-like. Surprise rushed over me as I realize Baba’s spoken words to Princess seem to be comprehendible to me now.  
  
“…taken away. You’ve done well, Semira. You will rest and recover.”  
  
  
Semira?  
  
  
Princess spoke and chills went down my spine. Her broken, raspy voice was gone, and that of a young girl’s echoed out. Clear and soft, I almost cried.  
  
“My sister,” Princess spoke. And for the first time, I saw tears pool in her eyes. “I couldn’t protect her.”  
  
I remembered the decaying body hidden in the ship.  
  
“Sister Vea,” Baba now spoke in a softer tone. Her thumb was stroking the girl’s cheek. “Your sister is resting. She still has your love and will eternally feel it.”  
  
Princess was crying in silence. My chest and throat were tied into a knot. It hurt. I watch in silence as Baba continuously wipe at the young girl’s tears, while murmuring words of comfort that sounded almost melodic. “Cry, Semira. Cry. Never block the river within you.”

  
And we both did.

  
\--

  
I sat by the fire across from Baba, with Princess – who I learn from Baba is actually Semira – sleeping with her head on my lap. Her eyes were a bit swollen from crying, but she was sound asleep again. Her limp hand laid on mine to keep it covering her ear. From her heavy breathing, she seemed to be in deep sleep. I do not know how long time has passed, but the sky did not change despite how it felt like we already spent half a day here. But for some reason, I was in no hurry nor rush. I remember the look in Pop’s assuring eyes and my worries stay a distance away. Baba’s voice suddenly rings out with a question to me that takes me out of my thoughts.  
  
“Where is your home now, Dahlia?”  
  
I stare at her. Her eyes were now brown, the golden eyes from before were gone. I don’t speak, but the image of Whitebeard’s eyes, Marco with a cup of coffee, Thatch and Izo in a banter, Deuce flustered and in a panic when I had his notebook in my hands, each and every member of my massive family – they all played through my head one by one. The drunk, rowdy nights. The missions away from the family, the reunions. The look on Ace’s face catching mine after one of us returns from a mission. The expecting small smile. Ace. The kiss on my shoulder.  
  
I hear Baba laugh quietly. “I see.”  
  
I almost smile. Baba’s laugh is surprisingly so soft in comparison to her normal voice. Her laugh was so gentle. And young. “See what?”  
  
“Your mind and heart in sync. Keep it that way. That’s how you will heal your soul.”  
  
I stare into thought at her words before I speak. “Yes. I’ve found home.”  
  
“Good,” Baba spoke out softly, in almost a sense of relief. “We, of all people, need that.”  
  
I perk up from her words. “We?”  
  
She stares at me. “Do you know of Sirens?”  
  
“Sirens?”  
  
Baba looks far to her right, towards a part of an old broken wall of stone etched with odd symbols.  
  
“Many people don’t often learn of Sirens because it is part of ancient history.” Baba stared at me. “They _shouldn’t_ learn it.”  
  
“Dahlia, what I disclose to you from here on out, you need to make sure no one knows. Not just for your safety, but for the world’s. I am sure from your own father, you have learned of the wars, the poneglyphs - the void century. Everything needs to remain unknown for the world to unravel for themselves.”  
  
Baba seemed to be looking out into the distance. Her eyes glowed again. “Certain paths have been laid and they must be followed.”  
  
I did recall certain stories both Marco and Pops had shared with me. The void century was most certainly new to me when I first started with the crew. But by the time I had officially traveled with the Whitebeard Pirates, I absorbed so much like a sponge. But Pops’ vision did not seem to involve itself with it. He seemed more focused on making sure his legacy was carried out by his sons, which he entrusted will be the future generation. I still remember what he had said to me one night.

_“…Make the changes the world needs. It’s good to think about yourself and what you leave, but it’s pointless if what you leave does not carry on or challenge the next generation, Dahlia.”_

My mind turns its attention back to Baba as I hear her continue.  
  
“Back then, before Fishmen became known to humans, there were Sirens. It is easy to mistake fishmen - particularly mermaids - as descendants of Sirens, but that is not correct. Sirens do not reproduce, as deemed by Deasura. The difference with Sirens is our abilities or powers – of song, of sight, of healing. Countless accounts from seamen and sailors write or speak of a Siren as a beautiful temptress. Half woman, half fish, they lead humans astray by the song they sung. If ever a sailor resists our song, supposedly we die. A load of foolery, these men who write their so-called history and religion.”  
  
Just the thought of these common knowledge seemed to make her impatient, as she waved her hand in the air, fanning it away. She laughs.  
  
“Temptresses,” She repeats. “Bah! Humans’ feeble and weak minds. We mourn and sing, and suddenly it is our doing that we lead them astray to their own deaths."  
  
“Sirens were initially birds who had later on lost their wings. Goddess of Deasura, a lover and protector of both land and sea, saved the remaining Sirens who had jumped into the Ocean from the wrath of humans. Gave them the power to swim to control water. But because Deasura gave us such a power, she did not allow us to reproduce. So yes, there were Sirens, but both on land and in sea. Which is why you will always see doves and fish near Deasura.” Baba points past me, to the statue.  
  
“Sirens live nothing but lonely lives. Nothing but tragedy and loneliness. Our eyes see what is to come, and all that is to happen. Our enchanting voice and sound masks the pain and sadness we sing. Our ability to heal seems to always – _always_ – extend towards those who don’t deserve it.

“We bear all the sorrow, all the tragedy on our shoulders. And yet, we are always fascinated with humans, curious and tempted. Always willing to heal, to try to change fate. And it always leads us to death. We never learn. Not even when our wings were taken. Not even when our tails are cut or removed, not when we are forced or taken away from sea. Not when all our suffering was from the hands of humans.

“We are a danger to human society,” Baba whispered out. Her eyes were stern as her voice heed warning. “Particularly to the government. So do not expose yourself.”  
  
“Wait,” I took a deep breath. My head felt...numb. “I-“  
  
I could not find the words. My eyes must have shown how overwhelmed I was feeling. Many thoughts sped through my head.  
  
“A-Are…you saying I am a Siren?”  
  
“Like I said, we can’t reproduce,” Baba almost cut me off. She looked up at me. “We can only pass on the essence of our soul to the next person before our moment of death. Because us Sirens cannot physically give birth, we spiritually do so. Our lonely species crave family and love, and we will die for it. But for a lot of us, death is quick when we are always feared or hunted by another species. But I’m sure your mother is resting peacefully, knowing she was able to.”  
  
My heart beats louder. The image of the women underwater is replaying in my head.  
  
“You,” Baba spoke out to me. “Are touched by a Siren. You are a human with a Siren’s soul.”  
  
“I am a Siren,” Baba’s voice sounded tired as she stated this. “One who has lived too long.”  
  
She grew silent as she stared down at Princess. “Many of the Sirens now no longer have tails. You lose it the moment you spend too much time on land. There are too many Pirates today, too many Devil Fruits. The sea is different now, no longer ruled by any God or Goddess. It’s more dangerous for folks like us. This island used to be a bigger island. It was a sanctuary for us without tails, before the government found and sanctioned this place. Very convenient spot for smuggling kidnapped children, but a very dark time for us as well.”  
  
Baba slowly grabbed at the pieces of cloth covering her lower half, moving them until I saw her lower abdomen. A gruesome scar ran down and did not stop. I hold a shudder as I could not help but imagine how far down it went. The uneasiness in the pit of my stomach started again.  
  
“Your bastard of a father with those Rock Pirates,” I watch Baba suck her teeth and wave something imaginary away again. But her tone was lighter. “Terrible crew. A full out war with the government on this sanctioned island. Raised hell on earth. That month long, gruesome battle did more damage to this island and our people. Our already dwindling population was down by half. But we were helpless, since we’ve already seen it coming. But experiencing the present is never the same as bracing for the future.”  
  
Baba mumbled on a bit about how stupid Pops was, and how it was about time he had gotten rid of those pirates.  
  
“However, your mother was one stubborn woman. It didn’t matter if you were human. She loved you so much.”  
  
“You knew my mother?”  
  
“Dahlia, I am a living archive,” Baba chuckled. “I know of every Siren; your mother one of them. She lived on this island. One time, she ran up to Edward and slapped the lights out of that big fellow! Said to a complete stranger to take his battle elsewhere because you were sleeping. What a crazy woman! Not only was he a stranger, he was fighting his own crew member. Ha!”  
  
My heart stopped. I remember the image of the woman again. The painful sadness in her eyes, with the happiest smile. My mind could not grasp the fact that Pops met my mother before. I had no recollection.  
  
“…Maia,” Baba spoke, looking at me. “Your mother’s name was Maia. She saved you from this island, Dahlia. Maia conjured up such an earth-shattering tsunami that, along with so many powerful pirates in one island, it tore the island in half. She desperately wanted you away from this island. She knew she wanted you to live beyond this island. I just wish you had ended up in better hands.”  
  
Baba stopped speaking. She lowered her head as she stared into the fire. Her eyes were full of sorrow and grief.  
  
I stare at her. How long has this woman lived? How many lives have she seen be taken away? How many of her loved ones were lost? How many times have she survived again and again, only to be surrounded by tragedy and death? I was trying my best to hold my tears, but my heart was constantly squeezed by the pain I felt for her. Her sadness carried centuries. I cannot fathom what that is like. I swallowed hard as I blink away my tears.  
  
“It doesn’t matter because I am here now,” I spoke out. “I am overcoming it, and that’s the only thing that matters. No matter the ending, I’ve overcome.”  
  
Baba looks up and stares at me. I can’t read her expression.  
  
“Even though you look nothing like your mother, you’re so much like her. You speak like her too.”  
  
“From now on I would like to believe I am a good balance between my mother and Pops.”  
  
“Edward should be honored to be deemed as your father,” Baba spat out. Her harsh, firm voice was back.  
  
I laughed as I look down at Semira, still sound asleep. Drool is trickling down the corner of her mouth.  
  
“Baba,” I whispered out. “Who is the Boogeyman?”  
  
Baba does not speak. She is also staring at our little girl. We sit in silence for a while under this dark, dreading atmosphere as I watch Baba think. Her face is stern; the muscles on her face tight and unmoving.  
  
“Boogeyman,” Baba finally spoke out in a lower tone. “Must be terror in physical form.”  
  
“As our species dwindled, feeling and knowing of fellow souls became easier for a Siren. We can easily recognize fellow Sirens, even humans touched by one if their soul is strong enough. No matter how damaged a memory is or how broken a soul can be, as long as it’s still there within you, we can sense you. Humans, like you and Semira, do not have this ability. You may see through a human’s eye and perhaps catch a glimpse of their Siren’s soul, but only if they are present. It must be why Semira is clinging onto you so much. All fellow humans with a Siren’s soul are like your siblings.   
  
“ After the Great Tsunami, majority of us were safe, despite being dispersed and separated. I was the only one still on this island. We felt it within ourselves; the only two people we could not sense were Semira and Vea until a year ago, when Semira’s soul was suddenly felt the night that ghost ship appeared. For a week, I watched Semira, and I watch the ship physically age every night. In the beginning, she was vocal. Warned me to stay away. But by midweek, she looked so damaged she completely stopped speaking. There were certain moments where I felt she did not recognize me. I felt her soul was slowly chipping away.”

Baba looked back down at Semira. Her eyes were sad. “Such a young girl should be in her innocence.”  
  
I also look down at Semira, stroking her cheek with my thumb. Though healed, her skin was rough.

“I am not fully aware of who this Boogeyman is, but he is dangerous, Dahlia,” Baba’s whisper was harsh it pierced through me.  
  
“He is the only one who I could not foresee his fate. I could not tell what was to happen to Semina anymore. Or the ship. For a Siren to not be able to see one’s fate is an omen. For Semina to return the same age as when she disappeared, my intuition tells me this man must have some sort of power with time, and he moves in the night. There must be limits, as it seems his activity only stayed within the ship. There have been no accounts of any other person affected. I felt and sense nothing past the ship. You and your crew have docked close to the ship and nothing has happened. It seems we may be okay for now, with the ship completely burned and destroyed.”

Baba slowly took a deep breath. “Do not let this man touch you.”  
  
I remember what felt like something warm lick the back of my bleeding ear that night I met him. I remember the nausea and need to vomit from the feeling. “I think it’s a bit too late for that.”  
  
“Have you noticed anything since then?”  
  
“No, actually.”  
  
Baba’s gaze was on me. Her eyes turned golden again, the brightest I have seen of all the times she had looked at me. A look of subtle shock crossed her face and disappeared in a blink of an eye. Her mouth opened, but she could not find the words. When her eyes finally turn back to brown, she continues to stare at me. Realization hit me the same time she spoke.

“I can’t see anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Too many ideas, but poor skills ;-; I realize my past chapters have a lot of silly mistakes, but my attention is so focused on writing out these ideas I haven't corrected them yet. So I thank those who stick through this story even with my bad grammar and format. I truly appreciate you guys.


	13. Partner

In an instant I was back on the shore. The sudden darkness of the night takes me by surprise. It was still daylight just a second ago. I look around and find myself looking up at the Moby Dick. Ace was standing there up at the deck, face in a mixture of worry and anxiety. An intense, eager look flashed on his face before a cautious expression replaces it. He leaps down and lands onto the shore, making his way slowly towards us.

“My god,” Baba grumbled. “What is he, a puppy?”

At the same time, Semira’s face lit up and pointed at him. “Idiot!”

Ace’s confused face pushes me over the edge as I’m bent over laughing at what just happened.

Ace smiles at Semira, calling her Princess as she ran towards him.

I watch as he keeps looking my way, even when he picked up Semira to hold in his arm. I hear Baba mumble behind me, something about human men. I smile as I watch Semira whisper in his ear, the widened shocked eyes as he stops in his tracks to look at her. After a few exchanged words, Ace broke out into a grin and ruffles her head. Semira’s giggles ring out so melodic to my ears. I find myself closing my eyes again, praying to my own mind to remember her laughs.

I didn’t know exactly how long we were gone, but seeing Ace now reminds me of every time we were apart for our specific missions. I never notice exactly how badly I’ve missed him until we know one of us was coming back home to the Moby Dick. There is always a realization that dawns over us the moment we see each other. We always breathe a sigh of relief before a particular smile settles on both of our faces.

“Love has been poured into you, and it will be your strength,” Baba speaks out to me. I turn around, my ears hot. But a flash of sadness and grief displays across Baba’s face. Grabbing my hand, she pats it. So gentle and loving. “But I warn you - you will be battling a one-sided war with fate. It’s a curse even humans cannot escape, Dahlia.”

Something resonated within me from her words. It hurt. It seeps so deep into my veins. I see all her pain, her wishes and prayers that she must have done for me. Without even saying it, I know she is pleading for me not to not do what I’ve realized I must eventually face. Something I am sure I had sensed for a while but wished to never have the confirmation. I have lived all this time wishing, for once, life would prove my intuitions wrong and it was never granted. I rest my hand on hers, taking a look back at Ace.

“Baba, I think I’ve known the moment I made so many promises with that man.”

-

I could not focus.

“No I think she will like this one better,” Izo was debating with one of the nurses who was taking a short break. Izo had rejoined the feet shortly after I had returned. He went off on a quick mission nearby Emerald and returned with some souvenirs. Being the sweetheart that he is, he made sure to not leave anyone out, and that meant the nurse staff. He had brought back a variety of local soap that had infused natural flowers or herbs. Although local, it was a luxury item for travelers whenever they visited. Apparently, it’s an amazing and popular product. Izo was trying to decide which one I would like best, before he gave the rest to the nurses.

“No,” I hear Ace mutter, butting into their conversation gently. “Dally doesn’t like lavender.”

But I was not focused. I was staring out the porthole. We had set sail and Emerald Isle was long gone. Semira was long gone. I most likely will never see Baba ever again.

Semira had mentioned to us earlier that she wanted to stay on the island. As much as she expressed her desire to join us, she didn’t want Baba to be alone.

But it was best. It was truly the smartest, safest decision. I think I would not have it any other way.

Izo must be teasing Ace because I can hear the embarrassed, defensive tone in his voice. I readjust my legs and drew them closer to my chest. 

My thoughts replayed everything Baba had try to pack in the limited time we had. I think she and I both knew the moment I learned of our history and of the long painful history with death, I was going to leave the island.

I knew I was never going to return to Emerald Isle. Ever.

The more it sinks in, the more it feels right, no matter how sad I am. I will ask another division to run their rounds there, just to make sure it was left alone, and in the peace it deserved. Someone with a high bounty on her head, and a crew as big as Whitebeard’s, should not frequent such a small, hidden island often. I found every sigh I make get heavier.

From my peripheral, I notice something small slide into view on our table. I look down to see a very pretty soap. It was some sort of botanical soap bar and the flowers blended in it looked gorgeous. Picking it up and putting it closer to my nose, I smell a bit of manuka honey from it and I can’t hide my smile. One of my favorites. I give my thanks to Izo.

Conversation continues as more and more folks joined for dinner. Everything was back to normal. I join along with the most minimal effort. But my focus is completely elsewhere. I am watching myself talk, respond, laugh and eat, but I am not retaining anything. I don’t hear what everyone is saying or joking about. I don’t know what I’m eating or tasting. I don’t know what I am answering to. All I had in my head was Semira.

_“Sister,” I feel a nudge of my hand. Semira’s voice was so quiet, the crashing of the waves almost swallowed her voice. I turned around to look at her. Whitebeard had decided to leave immediately, the moment I returned. Baba was staring at the flag they had posted onto the island, high and proud. Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger flag. Baba stared at him, and then at Ace. I saw Baba walk towards Ace’s direction before I focus back on Semira. Like how Ace often does whenever speaking to Semira, I crouch down to her level._

_“Sister,” Her hand tightened around mine. She was trying to find words. When her mouth opened, fear crossed her face. The same fear I saw that night we had encountered Boogeyman. She spent a while struggling to come up with words. The heavy rising and falling of her chest, her eyes so focused, trying to come up with a voice. I watched in sadness and grief as a realization hit me. She was trying to warn me of something._

_“Semira,” I called out softly. I touched her cheek and waited until she was fully attentive and looking at me in the eyes. “It’s okay. Do your big sister a favor, and rest. Laugh and cry and laugh again. Grow up at your own pace.”_

_  
I grin at her. “Make sure you got stories to share the next time we see each other!”_

_Something rushes over me and overwhelms me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I am looking at a beautiful woman. My mother. She was smiling at me. I seemed scared. She was assuring me._

_“Deasura is everywhere, is everything. She’s even within you.” The beautiful woman spoke. She reaches and cups my ears, gently pressing her palms against them. I watch her lips move, as my hearing is muffled and the sound of water surrounds me, bubbling, low, humming. Earth-like and grounding. I feel like I am underwater.  
  
“We have the entire ocean in the palm of our hands. You are never alone.”_

_When I can finally breathe, I find myself back in the present, looking at Semira, whose tears were threatening to spill out. I smiled._

_“When you can’t sleep at night,” I grab her own hands by the wrist and guide her palms to cover her ears. I press them more firmly against her ears. “You can find me right there.”_

“You okay?”

I feel myself turning to Ace. He was smiling, but his keen eyes observe me.  
_  
_

Before I can answer, there was a loud roar of cheers. And once again, like a drunken wave, it spread through us, though we had no clue over what. Both Ace and I grabbed our drinks and cheered along, downing it in one go. I never followed up his question.

The night went on, and slowly, my ability to keep a smile on was disappearing. It drains me. It is late in the night now, and although many of us had called it a night, there are still so many of us here drinking, awake. All of Whitebeard nurses had kissed me on the cheek before calling it a night. Thatch seemed to have disappeared the same time. Izo shortly after. Soon, I found myself wanting to catch some fresh air. Bringing my pint of rum, I head out to the dock. The night sky is cloudy and there isn’t much of a sight to see, but nevertheless, the fresh air still relaxes me.

I’m not sure how long I was outside, but the noise from inside had died down. From behind, I smell a strong waft of alcohol and his scent. I find Ace painfully close to me to my left. I felt him grab my wrist and gently place something in my hand. Izo’s soap. “You left this. You don’t want him mouthing off tomorrow morning.”

I chuckle. “You’re right.”

He stood next to me in silence. We both just watch the waters. As I stare longer, the image of Maia underwater plays in my head.

I start thinking about what I had envisioned when talking to Semira. I close my free hand, my nails digging into my palm as I replay in my mind Maia covering my ears. _  
_  
I sense Ace staring at me now. Even from here in the cool breeze, I feel warm under his gaze. I took a deep breath.

“My mother’s name is Maia.”

Ace was silent, but I can still feel his eyes on me. My chest was heavy as I think of her last smile.

“And-“ My breath hitches. “And I don’t know her. I don’t remember her.”

“No one but one person remembers her in all her full glory, and it’s not even me. How-” I wince in the bitterness that enveloped me. My sight of the vast ocean is clouded with tears. “How sick is that?”

I was weeping in silence. For the first time on this ship, I felt so much shame, crying over someone I had no recollection of. Someone who had sacrificed their life to save mine.  
  
“Maia, huh?” Ace spoke it out into the air.  
  
Something was clutching and twisting my heart, not allowing me to breathe. Crying in silence was incredibly taxing. My head hurt.

“Portgas D. Rouge.”

I sniffled and turn my attention to him.

He was looking straight ahead again. There is a sort of sadness in his smile. But when he looks at me, it is not there. Just recognition. Understanding.

“Portgas D. Rouge. My mother’s name.” He reaches over and rubs away at my face, snot and all. His smile deepens at my sniffles. “I remember your mother, you remember mine.”

I did not stop crying, but I couldn't help but break into a helpless smile. More tears spilled. He was softly laughing to me now, commenting on how wet my face was, how much of a crybaby I was - but all I can focus on was his soft voice – so quiet and gentle, only for me to hear. A cup of chamomile tea with a sprinkle of cinnamon - after a long day away from home. I sniffled again, blinking hard before I spoke.

“Deal.”

As he takes one last look at me, his grin fades into a smile so tender my heart ached. The smile I always see when I’ve returned from anywhere. He leans over and kisses me on my shoulder before walking away, bidding a goodnight.  
  
  


“Goodnight, partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...As the weather is very indecisive in my area, I hope everyone is staying safe and taking care of theirselves, wherever you guys live!  
> Hope you find this chapter enjoyable.


	14. To War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part one of writer's block dealt with. let me know your thoughts! took so long to tackle this, but i hope you enjoy.
> 
> :D

“Ma’am.”  
  
“Ma’am!”

I try opening my eyes, but it was too bright. As if sand were in my eyes, I wince. My eyelids were refusing to even fathom the idea of opening. I groan while a quiet whisper of a young woman sounds near me again.

“Ma’am please, wake up! You’re late!”

“What?” I groan again. I am completely disoriented. I need a moment to collect myself. I hear ruffling and the light tinkling of a teacup on a saucer.

“You’re late. Mister’s going to find out if you don’t dress up right now, miss.”

Mister…

I shift and feel satin sheets under my fingertips. In fact, I feel the smooth and soft satin envelop almost every part of my skin. I am naked in my bed.

“Shit,” I hear myself call out. I turn over to my other side.

I force one eye open against the brightness and wait for my vision to adjust. Grand and large, decor full of vintage French gold furnishings. Of course, Shelby, Mister’s maid, had drawn the curtains. The arched window, clear as day, allowing as much sunlight as it can possibly bring in. Just looking at it irritates me. Shelby is at the table, in the middle of brewing tea as she glances at the glowering grandfather’s clock at the center of the wall across from me, ticking away slowly. It was half past noon.

Right. I’m in my bedroom.  
  
“It’s not like you, miss,” the pretty young lady speaks as she brings a cup of tea over to me. Instinctually, I sit up, letting the sheets fall off and revealing my upper body. Her eyes flutter downward, her voice now shy. “Did you drink too much last night?”

“I…I don’t know,” I murmur, still disoriented. If I was having a hangover, this was one odd hangover. There was no headache, but I had no recollection of the night prior. “I don’t recall. But I feel like I just had an awfully long dream.”

I look at the woman as she sat and stared at me, a slight blush across her cheeks. I see Shelby almost every day, have even at one point been intimate with her. She is just doing her usual morning routine with me. I do not understand why I feel like it has been months since I last seen her. My eyes travel all over her, then at her cleavage once more as she fidgeted and squirmed under my eyes. Cheeks still flushed, she reached over to where she placed my new clothes on my chaise lounge under the window.

“Miss,” She spoke softly. “We need to get you dressed up.”

I clear my throat, as the earl gray tea warms up my throat. My god, my throat is so dry. I can barely get my voice out. I stare down at my cup of tea. Everything seems like routine, and yet, I felt odd. Everything felt normal yet unfamiliar. But I needed to start my day, as usual. Slowly, the day’s tasks and chores slowly steep into my head. Taking a deep breath, I place my tea down on my bedside table, next to my seashell mirror. I will worry about this terrible hangover later. I am already way behind schedule.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to just call me Dahlia.”

I got up and let the satin sheets drape off the rest of my body as I walk towards her.  
  
-

I watched the new girl perform. One less thing for Mister to bitch about. The young girl debuted as planned. I looked around the resort. Nothing seemed to be of place. It was the usual. Loud, boisterous, classy, regal, filthy with secrets. It was not late into the evening yet, so my area was not filled with the filthier pirates who would eventually come. I looked back at the little girl up on stage. Eyes bright, smiling, cheering – completely hiding the fact that, just an hour ago, she was in the dressing room floor crying as I nursed her bruised arm.

_“It’s gonna be tough, doll,” I spoke out monotonously to her. She was sniffling. “But I want you to take the stage tonight, got it?”_

_“Can you sell me that you’re happy?” I looked at her as I finished wrapping her arm. There was a stricter tone in my voice. I needed her to focus. Tears poured out her face again. She was only fourteen. She winced, as if her nodding were painful._

_“Can you sell me that you chose to be here, love?” The young, fourteen-year-old girl winced again as she nodded once more, forcing her own body to betray herself. I rubbed her tears away. “Good.”_

Families and adults at the dinner tables sat before her. I wonder if any of them realize she was a lot younger than she looked on stage.

It was better than having her bartend until closing. Bartending was easy. Pirates knew nothing but sake and rum. You can sell a fool the filthiest rum as an old edition and get them to choke up majority of their money. With the right allure and right outfit, it was truly an easy night. The only issue is the kind of violence that often came with the liquor – for us, it was like flipping a coin where both sides were nearly the same. Assaulted by them if you follow along, assaulted even if you were just defending yourself. The night can go very wrong in a second. Unlike the young girl, I’d rather take the bar. After all, one side of the coin for me was one I have been fighting and dealing with my whole life. At the thought of him, I clench my jaw in disgust. I look back at the stage to check on the little girl. Her eyes quickly glanced over my direction for a swift second in the middle of an ovation. I cannot believe Mister really wanted her at the bar tonight. I gritted my teeth as I remembered arguing and fighting with him-

I looked down at my left hand where I expected the injury to be, but it was not there. A scar ran along my hand instead.

Odd.

I felt unsettled and strange. Thrown off, I look around, trying to regather my memory. What the hell did I drink last night? My memory was so jumbled. Suddenly, there was a rush of commotion amongst the women far towards the entrance of the place. I look away from the stage, watching our women flock towards that direction.

There were always two different types of commotions. One of excitement due to easy money, another an excitement due to possible, brewing trouble. As I see the anxiety on the women’s smiles, I already knew the answer. A sharp slap of the table made me whip my head towards the person nearby. Another of our performers. She had her business smile on; charming and seductive. Her dress seemed painted on her. But her eyes were alert and worrisome as she spoke to me through her smile.

“Whitebeard!”

I watch her hurry her way towards the entrance.

“Fucking hell,” I slam a bottle of vodka onto the counter. Under the table I reached for my jagged dagger taped up under. Lifting my boots, I shoved and hid it down my ankle. I tipped a toe towards the bottom of the bar and felt it hit where I expected my katana to be.

I am already having a weird hangover. This was such a terrible time.

Whitebeard Pirates usually do not cause trouble, but that is because they _never_ approach our resorts. It was our own chain. They had their own respective territories. My stomach was bubbling again. Something within me felt uneasy as the commotion grew and louder noises of men increased. I heard a man at a dinner table nearby call out to me. I turned and gave him my best smile, trying my best to hide my irritation. The resort was in a mess. Some waitresses have even deserted post. I deserted my bar and walked over to take the man’s order.

I hear a booming voice, laughing. It shook me to the core, trembled and vibrated within me. My heart stopped at the familiar laugh. I whipped my head towards that direction, and found the man glowering above all of us. Even the dinner had paused. The stage stopped. Everyone in the resort were holding their breath.

“Nice to see it’s spacious enough even for me!” The giant man spoke out. I stared at him. My irritation had disappeared as I listened to his laugh.

Something did not feel right. I’ve never met this man in my life.

I was in a standstill, uncomfortable and confused over what I was feeling as I stood and stared up at the man. My irritation had suddenly disappeared for a moment. In front of him, a group of men had entered, our women donning their arms. I slowly took the empty plates from the dinner table.

Bright orange catches my eyes and I find myself staring at a pair of gray eyes. A shirtless man in shorts stopped mid-conversation as we locked eyes. My heart seemed to jolt in pain. After a pause, and a quick graze of my body, he turned back to the man next to him, readjusting his hat to hide his face. The man he was walking next to was a taller guy with odd blond hair on his head. Whitebeard’s jolly roger as marked on his chest. I had also caught eye contact with him. Locking eyes longer, I watched him walk into a dinner table. A flock of our new girls were surrounding them, their loud, wooing voices masking their nervousness and tension in the air. I quickly looked away as I continued to clear the guest’s table.

“This is _not_ what I need right now,” I muttered. As I walked over to the bar, I yelled for one of our bouncers. “Get the ladies back in check, _please!_ ”

Walking into the kitchen, I slammed the dishware down into a box, not caring it anything shattered. “I need everyone to _pick it up_! Where the fuck is Mister?”

Cursing at myself once panic stirred in the kitchen, I walked out in a huff, attempting to control my anger. I caught eyes with Bonnie, another woman who had been sold the same time I was. I gave her an alerted nod. “Get the damn girl off the stage. Happy hour. _Now_!”

Happy hour was to start immediately, now that Whitebeard was here. Damage control was needed, as surely a lot of expensive reservations were lost now that we were to accommodate Whitebeard Pirates, especially their captain. Mister was about to pissed, and I cannot fathom who he was going to let his stress on. I felt sick at that thought.

In a second, the resort had gotten busier. Men were approaching the bar in a quieter, conniving manner that I knew too well as I felt their eyes glued onto me. I clenched my jaw as I plaster on the biggest smile I can fake, watching their eyes on my body. I was not revealing a lot, being that I was bartending tonight but of course, that is never the issue with men like these. It was never about the clothes.

“Hey, missus!” A guy called out.

A rush of groans spread amongst the group.

“C’mon Ace, at least stay in one place! As if you don’t steal the spotlight enough!”

I suddenly do not know why, but the comment was so familiar. A sense of déjà vu - like as if I had both heard and spoken that before. I turn to the person of the voice and found myself looking at the topless, freckle faced man again. He looked young compared to the rest of them. But holy shit, what a hell of a smile.

Another pinch in my chest was felt, almost knocking the breath out of me. Something felt off. I felt comfortable, familiar. I looked around the group. My smile slightly faltering as I felt like I could not grasp and understand this feeling of déjà vu. I never met these guys in my life. Trying my best to shake it off, I returned my focus to the young man and grinned.

“You look like trouble,” I purposely let my eyes wander on him. For a split second, I saw his eyebrow twitch up in amusement and his grin widened. Something felt way too familiar to the point where it felt uncomfortable. It was uncomfortable feeling my heart wanting to laugh out loud from the joy. Yes, oddly, I felt this was very much like him. I forced myself to speak. “What can I get ya, handsome?”

His grin was so cocky and mischievous. “Hey missus, what do you have on your menu?”

_Wrong._

My smile completely drops as the voice inside me rung out. _Wrong._

_Dahlia, this is wrong._

“Missus?”

I stared at the man before me. It felt like minutes had passed by in real time, but he did not look away. Did not speak. His grin faded into a smile.

_“Hey miss! What is your tastiest meal on your menu?”_

My eyes widened as a different memory bled into my mind. It was getting harder to breathe, as I watched the eyes of the freckle faced man never blink an eye. It turned serious, but everyone around us were still carrying on. The man was not smiling anymore. Am I dreaming?

 _This is wrong_.

I am gasping for air now, as the man stares at me in silence. I needed to throw up, but I could barely breathe. My vision was starting to fade out.

_Ace._

I know Ace. I know these people. This is not real.

 _He’s a messy eater. Don’t give him any soup.  
  
_ I looked around at the men crowding the bar.

_Haruta and Blenheim. Rum for one, gin for the other. I can ruin them in a drinking competition._

My heart beats loud and fast as I look up past these men, searching for the other man I had saw with Ace just a moment ago. My heart hurt in the recognition of the man.  
  
 _Marco. Marco, Marco, Marco. My family._  
  
But I could not even focus beyond the bar. I feel weak as I take a step back, the realization that I was dreaming hits me, and now the urgency and purpose floods through me. I try my best to look around my surroundings, but I already feel myself falling backwards.

I finally find myself jolting up, gasping for air. I am trembling and drenched in sweat. I lean over to my side, only to fall out and hit the floor. My ears are ringing as I feel myself heaving and retching, but I see nothing is coming out. The oxygen circulating through me again is painful.

I am not sure how long I have been on the floor, but the sun was peaking behind the curtains. I was back in the tavern. I smell mildew. I am breathing dust, as the room I am in seemed like it’s been collecting a lot.

“Shit,” I gasp. “Shit!”

I fucked up again. I hit the floorboard with a fist as I wince at the pain in my legs. A strangled noise erupts out of me from the pain. My legs were so numb that I wanted to curl my body into itself. The prickling was torturous. I knock on the floorboard once more and heard footsteps echo.

I hear an urgent knock on the door.

“Ma’am?”

I am retching again. Immediately, I hear keys jingle and the door being open. It was the innkeeper. Like clockwork, she rushed over with a wet towel as I heave. I am back in the present, I find myself mentally repeating. Cotton sheets are tangling my legs as I look around. I had paid for a small room to rest, in an isolated tavern in the outskirts of a nearby city. It was a small tavern run by an older woman who was kind enough shelter me and my very specific requests. I am back in the present. I am a Whitebeard Pirate. I am in the present. I reached behind myself, trying my best to ignore the numbing pain in my arms as I touched the ridged marks on my Celestial Dragon mark, half of it seared off. I’m here. I am here. I am present.

“How long was I out?” I rasped.

Her face looked scared as I see her look at my features. She held up a cup of water to my face.

“Two days.”

“Shit,” I murmured as I downed the water. I was parched. “Thank you. Did I disappear this time?”

“N-No,” she spoke out as she tore her gaze from the room. There was an abnormal amount of dust in the room. “You were in bed, but you never responded.”

“And you didn’t enter the room, correct?” My eyes trained on her. She immediately shook her head.

“No, I did just as you asked. Doorway only.”

I sighed as I feel my heart calm, and the numbing in my legs slowly disappearing. “Good. Good.”

“Ma’am, you look really bad. Are you sure you don’t need any hel-”

“No, I have to leave today anyway.” I hurried up and tried to hurl myself up. With her assistance, I limp over to the small wooden desk by the window. I have really milked my time here. I grab the large pouch of Bellies and handed it to her. It was everything I had on me at the moment.

“You’ve done more than enough. Please keep this to yourself. Don’t mention a word.”

The woman grows quiet but takes the money. Her brows furrow as she watched me pack my things. My limbs were still so weak. My hands were trembling. I had no time to write down any notes. I need to get back to the Moby Dick before they send someone to get me. My initial mission has long been completed and they have not yet heard anything from me since then. I am fucked.

“Remember”, I said hurriedly. I walked over to the bedside and grabbed the seashell compact mirror. Staring at it, I gripped it hard before shoving it into my bag. “If _anything_ seems out of place in your room, destroy it. That’s all you need to do.”

-

I can feel their eyes on me as I greeted everyone. It is refreshing to see familiar faces again. I did not realize until now that it has been quite a while since I rejoined the main fleet. But I feel a stronger need to hurry. Marco and Thatch were standing with Ace at a distance, all looking at me, studying me.

“Look harder, gentlemen,” I taunt as I walk past them. I catch Ace’s eyes, but we both broke contact the moment I completely passed by, out of their sight.

I stroked Kotatsu behind the ear, giving a small smooch on the top of his head, drawing out a very loud purr before I head towards my room for a quick stop. I wanted to grab and stock up on some things before I head out towards my next mission I had received from Pops on my way back here. My goal was to avoid him as much as I can before I had my ass handled. I rolled my shoulders as I approach my door.

I halt for a second, hovering quietly. In an intense focus, I held my breath, listening in before I forcefully opened it with haste. Standing in the doorway, I peer inside. It was just how I left it. Not a single thing in place. My eyes scanned my room once more. Every part of my muscles was tense. Waiting. Anticipating. But nothing seemed odd.

Slowly, I tread towards my desk and place my bag down. As I hustle about and reorganize my belongings, I take out my little notebook I had picked up during my travels. Half its pages were already filled up with rough scribbles. I grab a pen from my desk to add something to my most recent page.

With the tip of my finger grazing my lips, I scan through my notes. I paused before I continue writing.

_No more than two days before disappearing – how does disappearance work?_

_(Semira, disappearance...)_

I flipped back a page to view my previous notes. I sighed in exhaustion and frustration as I attempt to read my own ineligible handwriting. Nights of finally waking myself up flash through my mind – images of myself thrown off the bed, tearing, gasping, choking, and vomiting - urgently trying to write down everything I can remember with weak, trembling hands.

The pages were filled with as much details as I can possibly grasp before these dreams quickly faded away. All of these notes basically recalled memories, bits and pieces of memories that seemed perfectly accurate, until a piece of detail is off, heavily circled in ink by me. I had written my most recent dream down hastily, as I cannot even read what I circled. I hear myself sigh again as I stared at another line I both circled and underlined.

_Deja vu – leads out of dream state._

I recall the night that it all started.

The night we left Emerald Isle I had called it a night after Ace left my side. But when I arrived at my room, I found an object in my room that did not belong, and in no possibly way should have ended up there. I had noticed something oddly out of picture when I had grabbed my ointment off my desk that night. I do not recall exactly how long I sat there, still and unmoving as I stared at it. My compact mirror in a seashell encasing, its gold finish almost glistening like brand new under my candlelight. The same compact mirror that should have been destroyed in that marine ship the night Ace and I saved Semira.

In fact, now that I had spent almost an entire two months thinking over that night, a few details continue to haunt me to this day. When I had approached my door that night, I swore I had heard footsteps inside but, too tired and exhausted, I paid no mind and entered. But since that night, I had nothing but dreams of memories too precise, too real to wake from. Every single night I find I cannot wake up unless I have been woken up by someone or, as I have now learned, I realize within my own dream that I am in fact dreaming. Once awaken, I am left jolted awake with intense morning sickness, nausea, and painful numbness. Within days of carrying on my duties in Whitebeard Pirates, it had taken such a physical toll that silence enveloped me on the Moby Dick whenever someone passed. It was too apparent. The look on Marco’s and Ace’s faces made me feel shame. I look down at my notes again.  
  
 _Boogeyman – memory.  
Nausea, vomiting, headache, lack of blood circulation when coming out of dream state._

_Likely theory: boogeyman cannot affect those they don’t have the blood of._

The seashell was Boogeyman’s doing. I knew from how sick I looked every morning. It showed in the way I had to discreetly grip onto my family members’ arms just to make sure this is reality, that I was in present time. The concerned looks amongst my crew members, Ace’s growing frustration out of his concern over me, Marco’s silence whenever it took me almost a good hour to recover from waking up – it was too apparent. But none of us wanted to speak up because I refused to. Waking up and getting out of bed became a chore. A task. It requires a full day’s worth of energy before I recollected myself and was brought back into reality. And then I am stuck wondering if I was reminding everyone of how Semira looked like, wondering when someone will speak their mind and admit this instead of the averted gazes. But then again, if I really needed someone to blame, I was only able to blame myself. Because I chose this. Despite every fiber in my body that night had told me to destroy the compact mirror and break whatever may associate me with the Boogeyman, I had kept the compact mirror beside me. Curious and hoping the danger would lead me a path straight to him. My words to Marco from a past conversation continues to echo in my head whenever I look at my notes, reminding me why I was doing this.

_“...Unless I see Mister's dead body myself.”_

I wanted their heads on stakes. I want to see to it.

That was when my concern for the safety of my family began to rise in me. What if, like when I encountered Semira, one of my family members end up getting in contact with the Boogeyman from just getting near me? The fear within me was indescribable whenever I wondered how badly Semira’s state was, how long she had been experiencing this completely alone before I intruded and met the Boogeyman. Without proper knowledge of his powers and dangers, what if I had ended up bringing trouble towards the Whitebeard Pirates? What if Boogeyman can eventually get a hold of the Moby Dick like that marine ship? Anxiety continued to grow inside me with the fear of the unknown, and it came out as irritation whenever anyone noticed and tried to pry, like the commanders of the crew. Especially Marco. My heart sunk at the thought of him.

Marco’s eyes will show unlimited amount of anger. He may never show it towards me, but I can tell. A quick glimpse had hit me hard enough. He was upset with me and frustrated at my attempts to avoid everything. I cannot even look at him in the eyes for more than a second, for I feared my own pair would spill a lot more than I would like. As someone who I was able to confide everything to, I felt I’ve already disappointed him from just the state of my body. How do I approach him now, when there was just too much to explain and not enough time to? How do I even defend myself at this point? What justification do I have?

I know I was being selfish. I refuse to ask for help without knowing what the actual problem is. Especially when I had chosen this path. And thus, I had abused my flexible role amongst the Whitebeard Pirates. I took advantage and stretched out my missions as much as possible, even when I noticed Pops had given me more missions than usual. I am sure he had long noticed and had given me space to figure it out, but I have not figured shit out. Not one bit as I feel my body slowly rot. If I allowed myself to dip into this danger and could not survive and come out of it – could not even gather at least some bit of useful information - the shame I’d carry to Pops would be unbearable for me. I have slowly found myself avoiding the Moby Dick. I cannot recall the last time I have slept in my own room the past one and a half months. I ran my thumb along another cluster of notes.

_Is it truly a dream state?  
Or was it possible: capable to physically bring a single person back into their memory?  
Does that affect body and immediate settings?  
  
_

I have spent weeks on solo missions, completing them immediately and devoting remaining time to sleep separately – isolated and secluded – far, far away from the Moby Dick, from Pops. The more I experienced and learned from my dreams, the more I was gradually losing grip of reality, the more it confirmed my anxiety. I believe I was right. I had to take care of this myself. I was the root to Boogeyman and Mister’s evildoing. They needed my existence gone from this world, and it is not my family’s burden to take care of this when they have done more than enough. I have caused enough. I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath as I continued to look through my notes.

My hand froze before I added another note.

_…Your own timeline? Is it possible to only affect your own timeline?_

Staring at the written note, my thoughts lingered. These were not accurate memories whenever I was sleeping, for one. The small, subtle but wrong details seemed to prove it. The physical affects, the fact that my physical body can disappear, it had to be connected to how I was sure the Boogeyman had my blood. If what Baba mentioned was true, if this man really had something to do with time, my only guess was the possibility of him affecting your own timeline. Time in connection with your own blood and personal belonging. Putting the notebook away, I pulled out the seashell mirror again.

Nothing seemed to connect. How was he able to physically affect a body? Was I being trapped back in the past? I shivered at how each of the dreams felt too real. It was so real that I would completely forget the present me. The me now – no longer branded to the Celestial Dragons, no longer under the wrath of Mister. Whitebeard’s daughter. Sister of many.

Fire Fist Ace’s partner.

Losing grip on _this_ reality, forgetting this each time I dreamed was terrifying. The idea of losing my current identity left me in a new fear I never experienced. My grip on the mirror tightened.

I thought of Semira. How she was never present during the night until that night. I recalled how she did not want to sleep, did not want me to sleep. I can still remember her alert eyes, being such a young watchman as I slept. The relief on her face in the morning. Her running to Ace and Marco every morning, checking on them. My stomach felt sick I recall how she warned Baba not to get near her. Fear gripped my heart again. She didn’t want anyone near her. Why?

“Yo.”

I whipped around at the sudden voice. Marco was leaning against the doorway, watching me. “You look terrible. You’re not even going to rest and eat a meal before you go? Thatch is cooking up something for you.”

It has been a while. My last mission took a bit longer due to my tangents. It was nice to see him. His warm smile is still there, but his relaxed eyes had a glint of sharpness. He was too observant. They may not be related at all, but it seemed all of Pop’s sons had very keen eyes. I hate it.

“Also, Pops wants to talk to you. You’ve been two months-”

“Sorry,” I interrupt as I turned around, my tone unnaturally lighter and too polite. “I gotta go though. I want to get started right away-“

“You just finished a mission, Dally.” His serious voice with a hint of annoyance cut into me and stung.

“It sounds fun, ya know?” I joked. “Trust me. The only reason I took so long was because of the mermaids.”

I gestured a chef’s kiss at the thought of them. Marco cracked a warmer smile, but his eyes did not follow suit.

“Sorry Marco,” I said softly. “Just let Pops know I stepped out already.”

I peek at the seashell one more time. Marco watched in silence. I turn around and hold his stare as I stuffed it back into my back pocket.

After a few seconds, he sighed. “Sure.”  
  
“Send my regards to the idiot, though.” I stepped past him to the other direction that led me towards the back of the ship where there should be less people. Folks should be heading back into the ship anyway if Thatch is cooking. I did not want to explain myself any more than I have to if everyone here was going to question me like Marco is. I thought about the silent Ace I had passed by when I arrived. No smile. No relief on his face. Trying my best to shake off my shame, I look back at Marco. “Tell him to not miss me that much.”

Marco silently waved me off as he walked away after closing my door. “You can tell him yourself.”

Before I can question, I felt myself bumping into someone painfully solid. Again, a scent of teakwood enveloped my senses and triggers a light wave of emotions I have not fully felt in a while.

Ah, shit.

“I hope you’re not talking about me,” His voice rings out, his tone disgustingly polite. I looked up at him. His eyebrow was raised. A smirk donned his freckled face. He had his hat on and his backpack hung on one shoulder. “Who’d you miss? Me?”

Fuck.

I frowned. “You know what, I like you better without your hat.”

There was that grin again. One a bit too formal, as I see his eyes were not as expressive. One I have not seen since my first month joining Whitebeard.

I see. So we are at polite terms. It has only been two months and we were suddenly in polite terms. We have gone four months apart from each other and never had an issue. Annoyance is peaking within me.

“Didn’t know you were thinking so much of me that you had to pick one.”

I ignored his remark and nod towards his backpack. “Where you goin’?”

He nodded to mine. “Depends. Where you goin’?”

I stare at him. A light film of oil was covering his face as the weather in this area was pretty humid. He had a heavy tan, and he looked more chiseled than I last remembered. I broke into a sweet, empty smile that matched his own.

“You’re not coming with me, dear.”

“Aw shucks,” Ace amused, eyes wandering down to my smile. “Don’t say it like that, miss.”  
  
To many around us, our interactions may seem normal. It is easy to just assume we were just picking and bickering at each other as usual. But oddly, this was uncomfortably unnatural. So much so, that it is screaming at me. I am sure both of us felt it. The blatant flirting seemed forced and polite, distracting from the actual questions we wanted to ask. This kind of polite, charming Ace was something I have not seen in a very, _very_ long time. It almost offended me.

I do not budge even when Ace was leaning closer to me to look at my face, challenging me. “Why are you leaving in such a hurry?”

Wow. For once an actual question from him. I immediately notice the frustration and concern flashing through his eyes.

I immediately think about the seashell mirror in my back pocket. I thought of how, since the seashell had appeared, I have not slept without feeling of someone or something watching me from the corner of the room. How, lately, even when I feel a presence edging closer to my bedside, I cannot stay awake as I feel myself being lulled into deep sleep. How the knife under my pillows was useless, and how I still kept them there anyway, too afraid to face the shame of my utter helplessness. How my resolve was slowly being chipped away by fear.

Fear.

I almost wanted to speak about it. My travels. What I have learned and inferred of the Boogeyman from my reckless decisions to keep the seashell. How greedy I was feeling from being so, _so_ dangerously close to reaching the Boogeyman but yet so far away from just one missing puzzle piece. But as I watched this Ace before me, aware that the soft and vulnerable Ace I know was forcefully hidden away from me – that this was his way of throwing a tantrum - I withdrew at that thought. My smile never falters. My voice drops into a sweet, honey-like drawl as I raised a hand to touch his chin. I made sure he watched me look at his face, down his chest, to his abs.

“Maybe you’ll have to chase me this time.”  
  
I ignore the slight clench in his jaw as he grinned. The flash of annoyance in his eyes.

“No need,” he said smartly. “First Division’s orders. And Pop’s. I’m to chaperone you.”

“…Excuse me?”

Ace, cocky and disgustingly petty, slowly straightens up and bring his hat to politely cover his chest like he was about to recite a poem. His eyes never leave mine.

“ ‘That brat will avoid me when she comes back, so tell her this: She looks like she is preparing for a war she has no clue about. Until she finds her guts and her goddamn common sense again, she’s to be babysat.’ From your dearest Pops and your brother Marco.”

I wanted to Spartan kick Ace as he dramatically bowed. Pride washed all over his face from his perfectly executed recital. I whip around, but Marco was long gone.

When I turn back around, Ace’s face was close to mine now, closing the distance between us. I hear another teasingly mocking tone from his voice in a lowered voice and I almost sneer. Now it was his turn to touch my chin.

“So," His voice drawled out to me, his fingers holding my chin in place as I look up at him. His eyes don't wander as it was too busy searching for something in mine. The glint in his own was fiercely desperate and close to pleading, betraying his own facade.

"Where are you going?”


	15. Portgas D. Ace

I am in awe.

I watch the flames on Ace’s body disappear. Not a single scratch on him. I forgot how absolutely cocky this man is when it comes to combat. I forget it is always a sight to watch Ace fight. His power is beautiful. He is beautiful. But it seems it had momentarily slipped past me the past few months. It does not help the fact that he is always half naked when he fights. He had put on more muscle since the last time I saw him, and the tanned skin did not help one bit. I have missed him more than I wanted to admit.

We had reached our destination, but it has been quite frustrating for the both of us now that both bounty hunters and marines were constantly at our necks. My bounty, once again, spiked an incredible amount. However, Ace does not seem to care about the increase of pests, as he usually never does.

As for me, it was no help that I am wearing nothing that helped cover me up. I don the thinnest tank top I owned, as we are at a summer island. As much as I often enjoy the sun, the place is too arid and dry for my liking. Every breath promised more sweat and it allowed our clothes to cling onto our skin so tightly that it felt suffocating. It did not help that I could not be bothered to cover up my remaining Celestial Dragon mark. So here we are, the two of us. Walking around with both Whitebeard’s symbol and an offended, damaged symbol of the Celestial Dragons. As I watch Ace fight, I wonder if Pops and Marco have realized they paired a now reckless me with a chaotic flame boy.

But as Marco pops into my mind, a frown grows on my mouth.

_I heard the earthy chuckle of Pops and my impatience imploded before I can wait for a proper response to my knocking. I barged in. It was just Pops and Marco in the captain’s quarter._

_“What’s the meaning of this?” My eyes never leaving Pops. I was heated. I could not even breathe properly. Quiet footsteps approached the doorway I just entered, the scent of delicious, freshly cooked meal drifting to me. But not a word was uttered, so I continued._

_“I need a chaperone now?”_

_Pops was silent, taking in the sight of me and I am infuriated as I stood there. I watched him look at my eye bags, my possibly dull skin, and my way too obvious weight loss. I knew. I knew, and I wanted to scream. I was angry that his eyes saw. I was embarrassed and angry and ashamed and frustrated. I know. I know, so why are they doing this?_

_“Dahlia,” Pops called my name out in warning, but my tongue can no longer be stopped at this point._

_“I get it,” Disregarding his warning, I tried to speak while holding back as much spite as I can. I tried to keep my voice calm. “I know I have been acting up. Trust me, I know. But I’m in the middle of handling it-“_

_“I don’t know who you are lying to, but I know you don’t think of Pops a fool.”_

_My heart stopped at Marco’s voice. The cabin was eerily quiet as I turned my head to him, wide eyed at his tone. Sharp and firm. Loud and overtaking. Pheonix Marco, First Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, was speaking and he was encouraging me – challenging me to make the same mistake if I felt bold enough to repeat myself._

_“Answer me this,” Marco spoke out quietly. He too, was trying to control his anger and attempted to level out his tone, but his rage seeped out in sharp and precise pronunciation, like a knife. You almost wince at how abnormally clear and polite he was._

_“Do you think your body is disposable?”_

_My head shifts at the question. I was still reeling, stunned over the fact that Pops have not told him to stop. I was speaking to Whitebeard. Not the First Commander._

_“Listen,” Marco’s gestures were gentle and controlled, but his facial expressions were fiercely focused on me, barely blinking as he looked me in the eyes, still daring me to interrupt him. “You seem to have forgotten.”_

_“If you want to personally believe your body is disposable, be my guest, Dahlia. But you,” he pointed a sure finger at me forcefully. “You, as a member of this crew, have forgotten your place here and how you are needed here. I believe you’ve forgotten who you are. You, as a daughter of Whitebeard have let us down by forgetting you are his daughter in the first place. A sister.”_

_His subtle emphasis on sister burned into me, I had to hold my breath at the pain._

“You done staring? I’m starving.”

Ace’s voice snaps me out my trance, but I hold a finger up as I recollect my thoughts, still looking at his sweaty body without shame. He really does look better with more weight and muscle. 

“…Now I am.”

Ace rolls his eyes but before we can take a step, we were surrounded once again. Ace groans.

“I told you,” I mutter to him.

“I’m starving,” I hear Flame Boy complain once again. “We need food!”

There were too many pests on this island, despite it being Whitebeard’s territory. What we thought was a riot, was just another small pirate crew causing a ruckus. And of course it is just our luck that marines seemed to have picked it up on radar.

I reach for my side, once again forgetting I no longer have my katana on my left. My left arm awkwardly moved back up behind me where my belt hung a sheath for a weapon shaped like a dagger.

_“Leave us,” Pops spoke out._

_Without hesitation, Marco made way towards the exit without batting an eye. It hurt more than when he was yelling at me. I felt my tears well up as he walked past me and out the door without a single look my way._

_“I’ll wait outside,” Ace spoke from the doorway. The door closed._

_Outside, Marco ran his mouth as he vented while Ace and Thatch tried to distract and comfort him. I am breathing heavily as I tried to process everything and keep my heart still. I felt very alone. I felt lonely._

_“He had every right to go off on you like that, Dahlia.”_

_“I know,” I croaked out as I successfully blinked back tears. “But shit, Pops. Give me a break.”_

_“Here.”_

_My heart almost jumped as I instinctively reached out to grab what Pops threw at me. It was a sheath holding a medium sized, slim dagger. The hilt was uncomfortably short._

_“The hell is this-“_

_“Before we left Emerald Isle,” Pops muttered. “Baba warned me you would be very much like Maia.”_

_Listening quietly, I unsheathed what I expected to be a dagger. The hilt was shorter than my katana and not much to my liking. Was not sure how I was going to let Pops know I was already struggling trying to fully use my power with the katana blade, so this dagger would’ve done close to little._

_I was quick with my speed and throughout my time traveling with the crew, I have gotten stronger. But it never showed through my swings or cuts from my katana. Especially now that I was doing more solo missions, I have found it even more frustrating that nothing was being improved with my use of weapon._

_“That is from the old hag. Told me you were going to be as stubborn as your mother. I’m annoyed that she’s right.”_

_My head shot up. Pops was looking down at me, a twinkle in his eyes. But there was a note of distance at the mention of Maia. He continued regardless._

_“Didn’t expect it to happen so quickly but,” Whitebeard grumbled as he looked down at the weapon I held. Something somber reached his face. “Baba gave me this and told me to hold onto it until you start reminding me of her. Said she did not want to lose another person.”_

_I looked back down at the dagger. The blade was so overwhelmingly long compared to its own hilt. Holding the round, circular hilt it felt too uncomfortable. So perfectly circular like a pipe and abnormally wide compared to its length. The blade itself was overwhelming. It was a cyclone twisted blade, edges twisting around black mineral jagged like crystals up into a drill-like spear head. The black that peaked out from the twisting steel was so dark that I could not stop staring it, unsure of what kind of stone I was looking at. It looked close enough to obsidian, but its color was darker. I was very overwhelmed looking at its steel blade. It felt so heavy. It looked more like a broken off head instead of a proper dagger._

_I tried to swing it around like a dagger, holding it, gripping it. No matter how much I maneuvered it, I felt like I was giving it an awkward handshake. I did not even notice Pop had extended his hand towards me, something small and black in his palm. An obsidian black ring. It glinted like the jagged stone that sat atop Baba’s stick, glistening in its beautiful darkness._

_“Ring on your dominant hand. Said it won’t work unless the ring is on a Siren’s soul. Weapon forms based on yourself. Whatever movement you feel, do it. When you’re done, destroy it.”_

_“Destroy it?”_

_I look down at the weapon, staring at the ridiculously uncomfortable hilt._

  
Pulling the weapon out with my left hand, I recall my previous experiments and practices in the captain’s cabin. With the ring donned on my middle finger of my right hand, I ghost a gliding motion from the edge of the hilt, slowly moving my hand away as if I was extending it. As I perform this motion, I imagine Baba’s beautiful movements with her own aged hands. Elegant and full of power in the most subtle ways, as if the elements of the natural world heed before her every move. I can sense Ace slow his movements into a standstill, his eyes on me.

The hilt extends slowly as I feel it vibrate under my grip. Black steel is now forming longer and longer as if growing out into a long pole. As the hilt continued to extend, it is revealEd that it is not a dagger, but in fact the bottom of a long and mighty naginata. My right hand gripped onto it to hold it upright as the the weapon finishes into its true form. It glistens under the sun like Pop’s own weapon - proud and majestic. A high rush of adrenaline pumps into me. The weapon is now as light as a feather. I felt the harsh woven rope that had also formed, coiling itself tightly around the steel body like snakes. It chafes my skin, but I grip it tighter. I hold it before me, this double-sided weapon. I took a deep breath as my heart gripes in pain from the smell of the breeze that brushes and surrounds me. It reminds me of the soft salty breezes from Emerald Isle when I went for a dip. The light sweet breeze when Ace kissed me on the cheek.

_“That’s more like it,” Pops chuckled. A devilish glint was seen behind his surprised eyes. My eyes looked past the long, double ended naginata I was now holding. It was like a ghost of Pop’s naginata. Although long, gigantic, and taller than me, it was lighter than my katana. The heavy weight I felt when the bottom of this weapon was still an odd dagger was no longer felt. I watch Whitebeard chuckle in satisfaction, as it seems he was also a bit surprised at the weapon. Impressed and now cocky, he spoke out as I moved the weapon around, testing it, introducing it._

_“I told that old hag I was right. Of course you would take after me!”_

_Nothing but Pops laughter rung out, warming me like a freshly cooked meal. I feel his laughter break down a withering dam as a wave of emotion was threatening to spill out my eyes._

_“Dahlia,” Pops called out. “Fling yourself to the fire as much as you’d like. But you can’t die on us just yet, you little brat. So we’ll pry you out before you can even think about it.”_

Before I can help myself, I feel my mouth form a devilish grin. Goosebumps raise on my sweaty and exposed skin. Something within me is itching for my muscles to go. Letting my dominant hand hold a firmer grip, I brace my legs into a steadier stance. I watch the massive crowd charge at me.

Let us have some fun.

“Ace dear,” I grin, excitement getting the best of me. A honey voice came out me as I glance over to Ace. He raised an eyebrow as I continued. “Care for a dance, love?”

Amongst the crowd’s shouting, I call Ace out on his five o’clock. Like clockwork, Ace moves up in front of me and takes a bracing stance. Almost instantly, we understood exactly what we were going to do, just like the past times we’ve gone out to missions prior.

A double-headed naginata, huh? I lifted my weapon and jabbed back at the person who tried to attack me from behind, before swinging it and transferring the weapon to my opposite hand. I felt both ends hit with force. Jumping up, I perch onto Ace’s right like a giant bird, something I had learned from Marco. I feel him balancing and squatting into a stronger stance, putting weight in his own legs.

“You’ve lost weight Dally,” Ace mutters, but his own grin is as devilishly wicked as mine the moment his eyes locked on the crowd before us. “You better not be rusty!”

I jump off, with his additional pushful force put towards the bottom of my heels. I am near flying in the sky now as I look down before me. I wonder if Pop’s view is always like this. These little tiny enemies, like ants. Pests.

I saw nothing but a whirlwind of fire around me the next minute. Lifting my weapon, I spin it and swing a wave of air towards the direction of the crowd, the fire moving to the grace of my own movement. Nothing but hot gust licking me as it speeds past me towards the large crowd, wiping out more than half of it, leaving just a smaller group centered and trapped beneath me as I am flying in the air. I twist my lower body to ensure my feet was landing first, crushing the face of their head captain. I bring the bottom of my weapon down into his body and twist. I hear bones crunch beneath me.

Now landed, I am now surrounded by Ace’s flames. With another forceful swing, I wiped out the remaining group that could not touch me but was easily within my reach. I felt the ground beneath me shake slightly with each strike of my blade. Like a weapon that absorbed Ace’s fire, I watch my weapon touch and sear into my opponents. Screams of agony replaces the cries of war.

I can get used to this. The weapon is so light, I did not even need to put as much power into my movements. I wish there were more test subjects to try my full force, but the field had nothing but unconscious and some bloodied bodies from my blade. I look down at my new weapon, excited but also overwhelmed.

“What the hell is that!” Ace exclaimed as he approaches me, bug-eyed at the weapon I am holding.

As my adrenaline dies down, I feel the intense soreness in my body. Remembering what I had learned, I gently grip the bottom end near where the twisted end was, holding the odd hilt again. With the blade of the naginata face down, I forcefully bring it down onto the ground. The entire weapon but the twisted blade and hilt I held onto shattered into pieces, returning to the same odd dagger it was before. I watched the tiny black pieces disintegrate like burnt ashes, fluttering and glimmering, even showing a bit of green and emerald in the shade of sunlight. I stare at the dagger in my hand before putting it away gently.

“A gift,” I respond weakly.

I feel the remaining energy deplete from me and I sway. I feel Ace’s hand on my arm, holding my balance. His hand almost fully wrapped and encircled around my bicep, which was abnormal. I don’t recall my arm being that skinny. Looking up, I see Ace’s unexplainable expression as he looks down at me. What was once amazement, excitement and wonder had turned into concern and worry, swimming in a mixture of unreachable darkness.

“I’m fucking starving,” I muttered.

I did not get a reply.

\--

“What do you mean?”

I immediately shift my eyes away from him and continue eating, but as always, Ace seems to never lose his patience when it comes to me. He let me sit in my own awkward silence, waiting on an explanation. I clench my jaw as I repeat myself.

“I’m going to be staying at another inn.”

We had finally found a place within the town to rest and replenish. It was already late now, as our travel and hours of thwarting off annoying folks had delayed our schedule. We would have to complete our mission tomorrow once we were well rested. Or once _I_ was better rested, as Ace had purposely worded. So here we are, at the bar of a tavern with spare rooms upstairs.

I can feel Ace’s eyes burn the side of my face. I am aware how suspicious I sound, which was why I didn’t want a chaperone. I’m annoyed now. I think about the seashell mirror in my back pocket as I took another sip of my beer.

“I heard you,” Ace’s friendly tone just a moment ago is now completely gone. His voice is now a bit too serious and irritated for my liking. “I asked what you meant, Dahlia.”

“Do you have a problem?” I turn my whole upper body towards him, challenging him with my eyes. My grip on my fork tight. Ace sees it, but continues to stare into my eyes, surprised and angry. Everything I did not need right now.

“Where are you staying if you’re not staying here?” Ace asks, now pronouncing his words slower and clearer, making it obvious that he expected a better answer from me. I mentally curse at him. Like his big brother, huh?

“Ace,” this time, it was me who was getting impatient. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m going to stay in the outskirts of town. I need a more isolated place-“

“Then I’ll go with you,” Ace interrupts, trying to mend something he could not understand. He spoke this solution in a lighter, hopeful tone. “We can both-“

“No.”

I look away from him again and continue to eat. The silence between us was deafening.

“No,” I repeat again, more to myself as I feel myself shaking my head. The idea of Ace being within the vicinity of the danger I am baiting was unimaginable to me. I refuse. I do not want to even imagine it. The silence pierces through my thoughts as I continue to eat.

After a few long and excruciating minutes, I built up the courage to take a glance at him, but I immediately regret it the moment I saw him. He had been sitting there staring at me, his food untouched. There was an indescribable look, something in the midst of surprise and overlooming anxiety in those eyes. It tore me in half so painfully that I even hold my breath. I stare back down at my plate of food in shame, both of us utterly speechless and defeated with each other. I cannot stand this. Not with him.

“Ace,” I spoke out weakly. “I need to do this alone. Just to be safe.”

I do not get an answer, as Ace is still lost in thought. My chest hurts even more as I realize what he was trying to grasp and mend. As I stare at my plate with the look on his face seared into my mind, I am realizing it was me who did not understand what he was trying to mend; a promise I may have broken in his mind. A promise to be at his side, to allow him to do the same. My chest tightens even more.

“Ace?”

Momentarily for the rest of our dinner, I had lost him, and it was excruciating. Let me wake up from my dreams for a year, consecutively. Let me be in a time loop of just waking up, let my body writhe in pain for a year – anything besides this. I had made a mistake in my choice of words, in my actions of dismissal. In the middle of my own selfish obsession, I forgot that I am indeed Ace’s partner. I have lost and forgotten I’ve reached deep, _deep_ , inside of Ace. He did not ask for it, and yet he opened up. And here I am, defensive and almost offended when he is attempting to reach me. The shame I was feeling made me want to cry. In worry and panic, I had call out to him once more, but it never reached him as he focused on finishing his food quietly, telling me he understood. He no longer had the energy to be dismissed again. So he nodded along, agreed with everything until my own voice gave up attempt.

Throughout the rest of our dinner in silence, I realized I wanted to face the Boogeyman and deal with this problem, but not at the risk of losing Ace. _My_ Ace. I did not want to return to nothing because I sacrificed everything. But how do I ask for help now? Especially after I’ve dismissed everyone already?

Maia, how did you die for the sake of love, embracing that fact you will not be there in the end? Did you do it out of bravery or cowardice? Because I can’t seem to find anything good out of it.

The dawning epiphany begins to sink into my blood, deep into my bones, and suddenly I feel heavier than I have ever felt the past two excruciating months. This realization hits me so hard that I can only curse at myself. This is not how I want this, I find myself repeating to myself again and again.

I did not want to rid this world of the Boogeyman or Mister - force myself bear this burden on my shoulder for the sake of love, just so I cannot even look Marco in the eye. Or not be able to sleep in my own bed, waking up to sounds of noisy men on the deck– to no longer get up and yell and be cranky, until Thatch brews me my cup of coffee I have grown to love. No sugar, but just a tad bit of creamer instead of regular milk in exchange for a soft greeting peck on the cheek. I did not want it if it meant no more drunken nights where I beat Blenheim, secretly knowing he will always let me win because he had a soft spot for me, just like almost all the other commanders of Whitebeard. My brothers.

I did not want to do this if it meant this Ace bidding me a goodnight after our dinner, his back walking away from me to his room without ever turning back to look at me, to check on me. I don’t want it if parting will be like this – his back turned to me as I stood and waited and hoped. Not a single tease, laughter, or a whisper of a secret or aspiration he looked forward to share with me in drunken stupor. No stolen kisses on our shoulders.

All these thoughts make me regret my efforts as I sit alone in another strange bedroom of an isolated inn I find in the outskirts of the town, far away from Ace for the night. I am prepped again, the innkeeper well aware and thoroughly bribed into my strict protocols to not touch this room unless it is to wake me the moment the sun rises, in order to prevent Ace to come looking for me. But staring at this filthy seashell once again, I realize I do not want to give up everything for the sake of reaching Boogeyman. I have given up enough of my life. I want to go home. I have had enough.

Tonight, I swear to myself. I gently place the seashell on my bedside. I pat the thin pillow, despite understanding it will be of no use to me when I sleep. My black ring glimmers in the night, and I catch the hint of emerald in the silver light. Tonight, I need to finish this. I don’t know how, but I just know I want to sink this ship and go back to the Moby Dick. Tonight, I repeat to myself. Tonight, I must finish this.

But I don’t tonight. Because I go into deep slumber again, my body helpless and useless as my mind forgets, once again, who I am. I don’t because I once again don’t realize I am dreaming, once again walking through another piece of memory, taking care of an already dead place and time, taking care and managing women and young girls I knew in my heart were long dead and possibly killed once found, wiped off the face of the earth with no one to mourn over them, remember them. I am not aware of time nor of reality as I sleep, my consciousness drifting further and further away from my own grasp and control. Once again, I am falling and spiraling into a lost cause and I am not aware I needed to get out. Or perhaps I have known, just didn’t know how to go past acknowledging I was tugging and lifting the limbs of dead bodies of my past, checking for a pulse, for warmth, for a single sign of any possible life, any sign of possible escape from their fate.

I know all of this, and I know of my failure the moment I found myself shaken awake in the middle of the night and my body is hurled back into reality, feeling like the blood was drained out of me again. I know when I am pale in the face at the realization that I was staring up into the eyes the freckle-faced man who had actually trailed me and found me tonight, his warm hands cupping the side of my ears, the sound of underwater and the warmth of his palms slowly but painfully easing my manic mind. His eyes were stone cold and dangerously dark as he observes my pained face twisted and contorted, saw the layer of sweat I am drenched in, and my body already withering away in my first few hours of sleep.

I failed tonight, like every other night. He sees it and he can feel it, as his hands seem larger and my thinned arms feel even colder. Despite the dark, I watch his eyes stare at the result of my body, the covers failing to hide the severity of the past two months due to my tossing and turning. My partner sat in this darkness with me, saw all that remained of me. I do not even have enough moisture in me to let out a sob. I do not have enough energy to call out to him – not enough courage to stop what I knew he was going to do.

I watch him slowly reach for the seashell in silence. His movements are so quiet. I watch as his eyes continuously observe, analyze and calculate, finally finding and recognizing the missing pieces on his own as he finally tears his eyes away from the seashell to look back at me. In anger that screamed out in the silence, the man before me makes a final and concluding decision in his head as his eyes turned into the determination I’ve seen the night we saved Semira. I watch in ragged breath as my partner tighten his hold on the seashell, a darkness changing the hue of the anger in his eyes. It is the same darkness that appears when he talks of his biological father. I watch his hands slowly tighten around the shell, making sure it slowly cracks and bends in his hand before his very eyes, until it shatters into small pieces. I watch Ace’s hand light up aflame, the fire illuminating the room and the rage in his eyes.

I watch two months of shadows flee from the light of his fire. I watch my weeks of disgusting attempts, theories, inferences, and proof of self-damage disintegrate like my compact mirror in his fist. I struggle to sit up, staring into the eyes I am now realizing I should have feared more than the Boogeyman. Staring into these dark eyes, I find an intense anger I have never ever seen, its aura coming out of him like a hot gust of pressured wind, almost suffocating me yet shaking me out of my pain. I’m left shaken to my core and out of breath, in a dawning realization that even the Boogeyman could not touch him because the dark figure I thought I would see in the corner of my eye tonight was nowhere in sight. It had also fled from Portgas D. Ace’s wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	16. Home

If I ever meet Luffy, the first thing I will ask him is exactly how annoying of an older brother Ace was when they were younger. Was he always this angry and full of nasty attitude? Bless him and beloved Sabo up above for being the best brothers, then.

I sit in silence as I stab at my plate, the big pillar candle on our table being the only source of light in the tavern this late at night.

“Don’t play with your food,” Ace warns again.

I had no energy to fight. The trek back to the tavern Ace stayed in was already painful. Ace was ruthless, dragging me out the inn and back to the center of the city. Even when my legs gave out from the lack of strength, he lifted me over his shoulder and carried me during the rest of the trek back, despite my attempt to thrash about. I am still recovering from the shame and embarrassment, being handled like a kid.

The anger when he had crushed my seashell mirror flashes before me, and I shiver. I continue eating. I am sure Ace will sit here as long as he needs to in order to ensure I finish my entire plate. Out of bitterness, I curse at his narcolepsy, mad that it was no where in sight when needed. A second later, I cursed at myself for such a selfish and horrible thought. I quietly sigh, the food a waste in my dry mouth. A glass of water is pushed closer to me by him. I reach for it in obedience.

Second Commander of Whitebeard Pirates Portgas D. Ace is one charming, cocky fellow. Young and full of potential with the Flame fruit, it was rightfully so as he is truly powerful. His bounty shows it and his past as well. But as much as people associate his fire powers and brute force to come from a quick anger - to even call him hot-headed, one truly does not understand when Ace is really angry except his own family. The only person besides Pops who handles Ace’s anger so bravely is honestly Marco and Thatch. Even Deuce sometimes steers clear of him, depending on exactly how angry Ace is.

Ace’s anger reaching its peak is often stealth-like, so it is understandable when someone thinks of him as hot tempered. Almost most of Ace’s rage can be seen only when acted upon, or boundaries that ties very dear to his heart are crossed or violated, pushing him to break. Only the very few realize everything in him is built up, and that included his anger. Everything is powered from years full of carefully threaded lines and boundaries around his heart. Everything Ace does is with whole-hearted intention, and his anger reflects just that. In contrast to his lively, crazy and often teasing demeanor, thoughts can be seen speeding through his head if one looks into his eyes closely enough – if he allows you to look into his eyes that closely. So often we let Ace ride out his anger. His silence comes from his intense focus and drive on one goal he will find to resolve his rage. Once his eyes are locked onto something he wants to set afire, he will not walk away until he sees to it that it is burned into ashes. Sometimes I worry he doesn’t mind risking his life because of it.

So as I sit across from him in this empty tavern, I have no idea what is going through his mind as he watches me in such a domineering demeanor. I cannot read his expressions and I cannot figure out a way to approach him. I look down at my plate as I speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence. The food is harder to swallow. We continue to sit there as I continue to stomach this food.

My mind lingers back to the seashell and now I worry. With it gone, I wonder if I will still be in that odd dream state every time I go to bed.

“Stop thinking.”

I’m startled from Ace’s clear voice.

“Eat.”

“I got it,” I snap back for the first time. I feel a surge of irritation rush over me from the uncomfortable beating of my heart. I look up into his eyes to make sure he knows I am aggravated. I am already eating, I am drinking – I am doing everything my commander is ordering me to. But at a certain point, he is going too far.

“I’m doing what you’re ordering me to already. Can you relax? If it were that easy to just stop thinking, I would. _Commander_.”

I spat the last word out with so much venom. He does not say anything, but his eyes never waver. I curse under my breath as I weakly jab another piece of meat.

“You can think all you want once you’ve eaten a proper meal-“

“Oh fuck you, Ace.”

The moment I dropped my fork on the plate, hell broke loose. Time rushed by faster as we argued with each other in escalating voices. My frustration with him violating my privacy, his frustration with me hiding so much when it was very apparent that I needed help. We went back and forth viciously and amongst our yelling, we caught glimpses of each other’s eyes the nervousness, the surreal feeling of knowing this was our first time arguing – truly fighting – and confronting a person with our honest thoughts. We struggled through our yelling to put our thoughts into proper words, but we failed because it was easier to spit insults and offenses than to admit vulnerability. We both saw it, and thus why we stood our ground. We knew we were forcing some type of communication, but it was not fitting right. It was just clashing noisily and harshly. We were recklessly hoping something will eventually fit.

“And what if you got into danger, Ace?” my voice is strangled now. I am standing up, pacing back and forth. The same fear washes over me on that thought as I look up at Ace, who is now also standing. His eyes widened as he notices the fear. But I ignore it and continue. “What if the Boogeyman had touched you in the middle of you entering?”

“What do you mean?”

“The Boogeyman has my blood, Ace,” I say impatiently and the slapping of my hand on the table emphasizes it, despite being well aware that only Marco knew of this. “When we saved Semira, he got my blood. What if he also snuck behind you and got you too?”

My voice grew during the last few words, as my panic and utter fear of Ace in danger is revealed. It was desperate and coarse. My throat knots and my eyes water. Ace stands there in silence, staring at me wide-eyed. It makes me angrier. That idiotic face. I repeat myself, trying to scream my own sanity away.

“What if it got to you? What if it got to _you_?!”

Ace calls my name in a lowered voice, but something already snaps in me. Why am I the crazy one? When all my precise efforts were not truly selfish? I isolated myself for the sake of my family, so why does my family make me feel insane for doing so?

“What if it got to you, huh?” Without thinking, I take my empty plate and throw it at him, despite knowing he will easily dodge it. “I don’t care that you crushed the only thing leading to him, but what if _you_ get trapped, huh?! For fucking once,” I throw the fork at him as roughly as the desperation rising in my voice. “For fucking _once_ , can you not be reckless? Can you _please_ understand how scary it is to lose you?”

I throw my glass of water at him and hear it crash on the floor. I do not care who I wake up, nor do I care of anything anymore. I feel I have lost my mind at this point. I am tired from feeling lost in so many ways. I have exhausted myself, taking one defeat after another. I have lost Ace already, lost our communication as we stand feet apart, screaming.

“You’re angry, huh? Well I am too! So now what?” I challenge Ace. I am laughing in disbelief now as I stare wide-eyed at him. “What happens now when we are angry for each other? Is yours more valid than mine now? Huh?”

“Dally, that’s not the point-“

“That’s not the point,” I repeat and mock his sentence. “That’s not the poin- fuck you.”

Someone cleared their throat at the doorway. An old woman in her nightgown was looking at us in a stern, angry face.

“You kids keep this up, I will kick you out and keep your money.”

Ace takes a deep breath before tearing his eyes away from me. In a flash, his polite demeanor returns as he bows to the old woman. His voice was back to his charming, smooth voice. Gritting my own teeth, I do the same and bow apologetically. I watch as Ace apologizes for both of us and promises to pay for the damaged items after we clean up.

“Go to bed after,” the woman snaps, looking at the both of us. “I know a first fight when I see it, but I’m old now, so I can’t afford to lose my damn sleep. The place is completely empty so it makes it harder to ignore you two. Whitebeard’s folks or not, I _will_ kick you brats out!”

And with that, we both watch the old woman scurry back out the doorway, her shuffling of footsteps fading away.

“Let’s just get this over with and go to bed,” I mutter in annoyance. I can also see the eyebags on Ace’s face. “We have a mission tomorrow. Let’s just complete it and head home.”

Ace does not respond but proceeds to start cleaning up the mess I made. We shuffle around the tavern in silence, cleaning up the sight of the mess, both defeated and exhausted. It felt like an entire night as we cleaned up, our movements somber and slow. We had a lot we still wanted to say but could not approach. As we cleaned, our polite voices were so foreign, so awkward and it seemed to drain us even more. When we both agreed to retreat for the night, we headed upstairs. Ace had paid for two rooms already. My footsteps follow him silently, my own mind lost in heavy thought. Something begins to gnaw at me as we get closer to our assigned rooms.

I do not want to go to sleep like this.

How does one even go to sleep after an unresolved argument? How do you even get proper sleep? How do you even wake up properly knowing it will be the first thing you will face in the morning?

I listen to Ace as he stopped at a door. With a very distant and formal voice, he is telling me this is my room. I stare at him as he informs me of plans tomorrow, how we should sleep in a bit since we may need the rest. The mission can wait, as Pops had told him when Ace had given him an update. I am barely listening, as I can only focus on his distant voice and the exhaustion in his face. I then realize he probably has not slept all day and all night. I am amazed how he has stayed awake. The heightened level of stress must be keeping him awake. I am keeping him awake. Knowing that now makes my chest hurt.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?”

His question pulls me out of my thought. “Huh?”

I can see a flash of annoyance through his eyes, but he is _still_ patient with me. He repeats himself without any irritation, just an even more polite tone. In guilt, I gave a forceful smile as I try to respond lightheartedly.

“Dunno. But at this poor state, does it really matter?”

I force a laugh, but Ace does not even smile at that. I sigh.

“Just a joke, Ace.”

“I know,” Ace forces a curt smile. “But not tonight.”

I stare at him in defeat.

“Jesus, Ace,” I say almost too desperately. “What’s with you? I’m just trying to lighten up the mood-“  
  
“Do you really want to know?” Ace’s eyebrow rose, but there goes that hint of annoyance in his voice again. Hearing it spikes my own. I truly despise this fake demeanor. I despise the masking, the forcefulness. He asks again.

“Do you really want to know or am I gonna get shut down again, like the multiple times before?”

“Ace, I wasn’t trying to start anything,” I retort impatiently and in instinctual defense. My voice even raises again. My hands I held up in surrender gives up and falls to my sides.

“Just…this is just frustrating. I did not ask you to pry and be so close. That’s all.”

But the moment those words escape me carelessly, I immediately regret it. I knew he was not prying or nosing around. Ace was caring. As was Pops, Marco, the entire family.

Ace just stares at me, in an expression of disbelief. We both felt it. The stupidity and embarrassment of our state right now. It all felt so stupid. I sigh. Guilt seeps into me.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” I speak out. “I take it b-“

“Tell me you don’t miss me,” Ace interrupts. His challenging tone breaks through his faked politeness. But the bitterness mixed with a dreaded surrendering I hear from his louder, scared voice burns more. “Just say it, Dahlia.”

I stare at him, speechless. He knows my answer. He should always know my answer. This is not the issue nor the point. “Ace-“

“Do you not miss me?”

“Ace! Are you fucking serious? Why would you ask tha-“

“Why is it hard for you to answer me?”

“Because from how you’re asking, would you even believe me?”

Ace’s eyes widened even more, bewildered. His voice rises to match mine. “Of course I would! How can you forget that?”

Silence.

Ace’s whisper pierces me.

“Answer me. Did you even miss me?”

My heart hurt. As much as his voice sounded rhetorical, I can still hear his own self-doubt. It was the waver in his voice. And it tore through me. The breath I heave out in response from the pain in my chest was so apparent even Ace’s face contorted in conflict watching me. I never, _never_ questioned whether he missed me or not. It hurt to see it was different for him.

“Of course I do, Ace.” The breath I took hurt. “How can you even question that?”

He is approaching me now, so close, his own body ushering me backwards. My back is now up against the wooden wall of the narrow hallway, but Ace continues to approach me until he is towering over me.

“Tell me to stop, Dahlia.”  
  
My breath hitches. It was so hard to breathe from how hard and fast my heart is beating. I almost shiver from how he traces his fingers up my arm. But I could not speak, as my eyes refuse to leave his. His eyes were dark as they focus on my face and lips. His jaw clenched. His brows are furrowed, his face intense like he is absolutely torn. Half wanting to continue to admire my features, another one bracing for rejection. Like fire, he is so strong, yet so easily faltering with the wind. I was the wind this time – careless and reckless, lashing out in different directions, unaware a flame is about to give out.

I feel his rough fingertips trace up my bicep, up to my shoulder to grace my neck. Even this close, I cannot even hear a single breath from him. He is so close; I felt the heat radiating off him. Every little detail of him this close is making it so hard to breathe.

“If you don’t want me close,” Ace challenges again, almost pleading from his own anxiety. The firmness in his voice is now gone. There is a desperation in his voice as it turns into a very piercing whisper. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to go away.”

But I could not speak. I am completely frozen. My eyes flutter to his lips. I feel a thumb graze my cheek before fingertips graze back down my neck again. I take a deep breath. Holy shit.

I feel his hand fully touch the side of my neck, warm and firm, massaging it. My eyes waver from the pleasure. My own lips betray me as a sharp breath escapes me. Then, his hand fully embraces my neck, his thumb reaching the other side. The warmth and slight pressure on the sides of my neck and the warmth from his palm covering part of my collarbone felt so good I fight every fiber in my being to not let my eyes roll back, to prevent my lids from closing in surrender. But I am failing myself, as his warmth can be felt on my upper chest.

“Ace,” I croak out as I find myself placing a trembling hand on top of his chest. My god, that did not help. I open my eyes again.

Something was panicking in the pit of my stomach. As much as his touches had felt thrilling, I am not sure if my hands were trembling from a good place or bad. As much as he is delightfully close, I am not able to think fast enough to process my own feelings.

His focus shifts to my eyes. His hardened gaze never budges. As I watch him slowly close in the distance between us, my heart is squeezed tight in my chest.

I have wished, fantasized, and daydreamed for this. The time for our first kiss. I have imagined countless times – even wished – for this to happen. For Ace to initiate a move, to pull us just a bit closer physically. I have played countless scenarios in my head. I have mentally begged for him to start something because I would never have the guts to. No matter how experienced the both of us were and how easy it could have been for us, I never took the initiative and neither did Ace. I had hoped that, if I had teased and pressed the right buttons, something like this can happen. But something tinged my heart as I stood looking at his facial features this up close, breathing him in this place and time. As much as I hated to admit it, my body is betraying my own thoughts. I want to cry because I can feel my heart beat in excitement, but sting from the slight fear, how the trembling in my arms do not seem to be from the same pleasure that is causing my legs to turn so weak. The hesitation in my body is screaming at me.

I don’t want it.

I don’t want it with such a serious, dark look on his face. Nor do I want it post fight. I never imagined a first kiss with him to include a vast distance between us. Never in my fantasies did I imagine it as a forced communication, just because we were not able to fully speak on what we wanted to speak on. I want to cry, because as much as I still want to kiss him, want to stop and end our fighting, I do not want it like this. Not like this. The unsureness, the questions that were reflecting off his eyes. The doubts that hid deep in those eyes of his, when I have seen that peaceful look on his face on Emerald Isle, his eyes full of emotion, fully open and trustful – when I have seen my own self occupy more than what I am seeing reflected in his eyes right now. No, I do not want it like this, when I know I have seen him look at me in better light - when my skin has basked in better rays of his.

I watch as his eyes search mine, serious and with purpose. Slowly, his eyes lower in defeat and pain. Instead of leaning in for a kiss, Ace leans his forehead on my shoulder. Hunched over me, he stays like this for a few seconds, letting his hand gently remove itself from my neck. Suddenly, I feel cold and exposed.

“You can’t even move,” he whispers out to me.

I feel two trembling hands hold the sides of my arms gently. He lets out a raspy, shaking breath, tickling my shoulder and chest. I feel my weak hand slide down a bit on his chest. I am about to collapse. 

“I’m sorry, Dally. I just want you back,” his voice rasps, low and breathless right next to my ear. “Just want my partner back.”

I feel him lift his head up to brush my hair away before gently planting a kiss on the tip of my shoulder. I let out a breath I do not realize I have been holding. My mind in a haze and without thought, I raise my weak arms and wrap it around his neck as I allow my legs to give out. I hold onto him tightly. I feel warm arms wrap around me tightly, preventing me from sliding down as Ace’s face is buried into my hair. I took a deep breath and swallow down any sobs that were threatening to come out of me.

“I’m sorry, Ace,” I whisper out. I want to say more, but my voice is stuck in my throat.

He hums into my hair, short and quiet but affirming. It is so weak and intimate it makes my heart ache. He shifts his face further into my hair, taking in deep breaths. I close my eyes as I embrace this feeling. He is so warm. Ace is always so warm. I feel my mind clearing. My heart is slowing down, lulled by his hand massaging soft circles into my lower back. His warmth gives energy back into my legs. I take another shaky breath, trying to focus on my breathing as one of my hands slides to the back of his neck, under his hat that hung behind him, my thumb grazing his skin. So smooth. Ace’s skin is so smooth. We stood there, tightly wrapped in each other’s embrace, breathing in each other’s scent. My skin feels warm and it tingles in his embrace, in a better feeling of delight and content.

“You feeling better?” Ace whispers. He sounded tired. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”  
  
Another soft kiss ghosts my shoulder before I am left alone in the cold, watching the broad back of Portgas D. Ace walk away towards his own room. Nothing is processing in my head but one single realization as my body reacts in a returning panic to the absence of his, my eyes glued to his back.

This was the first time we hugged.

“Ace,” I hear myself call out. My voice is strained, carefully treading amidst the heavy waters within me. He stops and looks back. He stopped. I felt a sense of relief wash over me, but it is a second too late as I am now breathing faster. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat louder, but I could not look up at him. I am too ashamed. “I’m sorry I am being selfish, and for leaving you out in the cold. I broke a promise to you, I led you to doubt yourself.”

As I repeatedly apologize, Ace calls out my name. My panic rises as fast as the water pouring out the broken dam within me. Repeating the same apologies again and again, I beg him to not leave my side just yet. I feel so much colder now that I felt and experienced his embrace. I want it back, and I want him back. I want his hug, his hand rubbing warm circles on my back. I want to continue to breathe him in, until all I can think about is just him and nothing else. I want one more minute of his embrace to stretch out for as long as it can to make up for my time lost, for our time wasted arguing. I can die in the warmth of his embrace. At that thought, I tremble as I clutch onto myself, my mind reeling as I hear another sob come out of me. His own concern raises in each call of my name, approaching closer to me.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to ask for help, Ace-“

“Dally,” Ace harshly calls out to me again, and I find my face tightly cupped in his hands. His voice was alert as his eyes travel all over my face. “Breathe.”

I am realizing I am hyperventilating in between sobs and words. My chest is heaving and it is painful to breathe, but his grasp on my face is firm as he continues to watch me, eyes reminding me to breathe, reminding me that there is an end to this tunnel, that in the end I will be alive and alright. Again, Ace stands there in his patience, a patience I had long taken advantage of. Another wave of guilt washes over me, knocking the wind out of me again.

“I don’t know how to ask for help,” I repeat again, gasping at my own confession. Tears pouring out my eyes are so hot my eyes stung. I can barely keep them open. “I don’t know what I need-”

“You asked just now, and that’s all that matters-”

“But I just need you right now, Ace. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s a lot of things you’re apologizing for that doesn’t need an apology, Dally.”

Ace still focuses on my breathing as I am gasping for air. He gently instructs breathing exercises to me, despite how my panic did not seem to go away. I reach up and grasp for his own warm hands on my face. I hear a door creak open far behind me, but immediately close when I see Ace look past me at that direction in a deadly stare. But before I give up and fully close my eyes, Ace’s voice tells me to stay focused on him. His eyes are back on me, alert and sharp.

We stay like this for what felt like forever, until my voice gives up on me, and my sobbing ceases to small sniffles and hiccups. He stands there motionless, stands there in full tense alertness as he waits until I am physically okay.

“I want to be hugged by you,” I hear myself speak. “Please-”

Without a moment’s hesitation, a hard chest covers my face as arms gently embrace me once more, one large hand protectively on the back of my head. His grace was light and soft, as if scared it can break me this time. My legs give out from exhaustion once more, this time twice as intense. I wrap and cling my arms around his neck. I sigh in absolute surrender, my exhaustion fully heard in my strangled breath. I hug tightly as the sigh released from me showed all the fear that I had kept inside me all this time. I hug him tight, trying to squeeze the fear away. At that, I feel a hand on my upper back, rubbing in a circular motion again, its warmth so soothing, ringing out any other doubt and shame within me. Whispers of comfort sounds in my ear, so close and intimate. Breathe. Relax. It’s okay. Dally. I’m sorry. Dally. Damn crybaby.

It feels like home. For the first time in two months, my shoulders relax. For the first time in two months, the tension in every muscle is melting away. And for once, I feel like the sleepiness settling into me was not a task anymore. For the first time in two months, I am not thinking about the Boogeyman or the seashell, but the realization that this was the first time Ace and I had hugged each other like this, and there will be many other times from here on out. I will cry and wail again if I have to, to get him to hug me like this again and again and again.

Despite us standing in each other’s arms, his hand still rubbing circles on my scarred back, I am drifting in a lulled, gentle sleep. I drift in his smooth voice, so tender and soft in my ear as his sturdy arms are all I am aware of in the little remaining consciousness I clung onto – enveloping me, protecting me. I hear myself whisper back, but I can barely stay awake to care what I said to him. All I am thinking about is him now.

In that second, I let go of the reigns and allow myself to drift further into the familiar darkness, losing my own consciousness as I finally surrender every part of me into a heavy deep sleep I haven’t had in a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed this! thank you for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are subtle and light suggestions of drug use and abuse in this chapter. There are no specific details, but this is a heads up. Please enjoy.

“Ma’am?”

I stir and feel the satin sheets surround me.

I realize I am lucid dreaming. I lay still for a second, bracing myself for that sick feeling that would overtake me the next second, but it does not come. I lay there in two places – in this dream state and in the tavern’s bedroom. I feel my physical body shift in my sleep, and my eyes peek open temporarily while I stay dreaming. It is barely daylight in the tavern. I probably clung onto Ace really hard ever since I passed out, because I hear the rough snoring coming from somewhere. But Ace’s body is not felt anywhere next to me except near the foot of my bed, legs felt crushing on top of mine.

“Ma’am, please wake up.”

In this dream, I wake and get up, letting the satin sheets fall off my body. I am in my bedroom again, in the resort. Shelby once again is in my room, preparing my breakfast. Ace’s snore still rings in the background as I stare at the beautiful young woman before me. The sun is really bright as it pours its rays across the floor, illuminating the entire room. Shelby looks back at me and blushes.

“Good morning, you’ll be late.”

I stare at her in silence and hold my breath. As she stood before me, I think of how Shelby had died about two years ago. Killed, actually. My heart hurts as I sit here, staring in all her beauty.

“Good morning, Shelby.”

A smile peeks on her plump lips, but her eyes are too shy to look up as she busies herself, placing my freshly cleaned clothes on my chaise lounge chair before coming over to me to give me my cup of tea.

“Mister will find out if you don’t dress up right now, miss.”

As I grip my teacup, I felt my actual hand squeeze Ace’s hand I seem to now be holding onto.

“Right,” I spoke out as I sip my tea. I look around the room and clear my throat. Taking a good look around my old room in this dream state, I am impressed how nothing seemed out of place. But the grandfather clock I remember standing in the middle of the wall across from me is not there. Realization hits me that it was the only thing that used to be out of place in my room during my past dreams. Just never got to notice it. 

“He can wait a bit for all I care.”

“But ma’am-“

“Late or not, the show doesn’t run without me,” I state. I put my teacup down next to my bedside and look at her. The sun rays made her glow before me. The light breeze enters my room. Shelby had opened the window as she usually does every morning. Strands of her hair moves and waltzes around her, lightly kissing her face as her eyes look into mine, her blush spreading over her face.

I stare in awe, doing my best to take in as much of her as I visually can in this vivid dream. I want this moment to replace my last memory of her, to erase the image of her lifeless body beaten and bloodied because Mister just wanted to prove a point to me. As I sat there with a pained heart, I feel tears run down the bridge of my nose, slipping down into the pillow my head rested on. She looks away with a smile tucked securely in the corners of her mouth and reaches over to my clothes.

Suddenly, I am aware my body is stirring from something noisy in the tavern bedroom. The tavern room is a lot brighter now, as it should be early in the morning. I feel a large warm hand touch the side of my face, then my forehead before something heavy falls hard next to me. Another loud snore sounds out a lot closer next to me, but it was not enough to get me out of my dream state.

Ace’s obnoxious snore now reminds me once again I am in a dream state, as I nurse the young girl’s hand before me. She is on the floor of our changing room, silently crying as I bandage her bruising arm. We are in the changing room, preparing for tonight’s show at our resort. I focus my attention back to the crying girl.

“It’s gonna be tough, doll,” I speak out in a softer tone. “But I want you to take the stage tonight, got it?”

She was only fourteen. Fourteen.

“Can you sell me that you’re happy?” I look at her as I finish wrapping her arm. I remember her. Mina. Her name was Mina. In two years, there was going to be reoccurring bruises and spots on her arms, as she could not shake off the excessive drug use. I do not know where she is right now. I do not know if she is even alive. I call out to her, trying to get her attention. Tears are pouring out her face again.

“Can you sell me that you chose to be here, love?” She was only fourteen. I rub her tears away. I aid her up over to the dressing table, as I help brush up her hair, re-do her make up. I’ll switch with her and take the bar tonight, I think to myself. Time seemed to pass by slowly as I dolled her up. Another loud snore rings around me, and snaps me out of my focus on the little girl. I realize something.

I have to see Mister. Of all the dreams I’ve had, I have never once seen Mister.

But my dream takes me on tangents and wild adventures as I fall into deeper sleep again. I’m entertaining yet working the bar. I am chatting up the women working tonight, while at the same time Shelby is suddenly dressing me once again, preparing me for another day. It is not until another sound of Ace’s snore rings louder in me and I sense his body next to me do I realize, once more, I am dreaming. And I must see Mister.

So, in my dream state I suddenly appear in front of his office. I look about, observing. Everything is exactly as how I remember it. Dull, dark. Pungent in lavender, with a disgusting hint of harsh bleach. I knock on the door. I find myself instinctually feeling odd when I hear the voice in response to my knocking muted and unclear, instead of the usual crisp and ice-cold demand to enter. I enter, and my consciousness alerts me that I am now having a nightmare amid my lucid dreaming.

This is a nightmare, as the dark office could not even hide the blood red color of the tall, stained glass windows. It glows in the dim office, striking fear within me, the judging angels staring down so mournfully, like as if they were the cursed ones to witness everything that has happened in this room. It is very spacious, as Mister’s office is very minimal. There is a grand, claw foot bathtub at the far right, hidden by a divider made of fine bamboo and a mix of oak, polished and coated in a darker, sleeker furnishing. Fine gold furnishing is hand painted in décor. Massive bookshelves were the walls that held up the room ceiling massive and looming, filled with logs, journals, records. Up between the two large stained-glass windows is Mister’s grand oak desk. No rug under his desk or the two chairs in front.

Mister is turned away from me, facing the window as he usually is when something bad happened. My muscles tense as my posture straightens. I remind myself that I am here to switch with Mina. I will not allow that girl to bartend during a Friday night Happy Hour for a bunch of rowdy pirates. I lose myself in thought, plotting, planning, mapping as I walk my way towards the desk. Once I reach my designated place in front of his desk, I stand in silence not daring to move, not daring to look at anywhere but the back of that giant leather chair, not daring to even breath a single second off pace.

“Explain to me why you are in my office and not busy preparing for tonight?”

I do not answer. I knew better. I will not answer until he turns around, because if I need things to go my way, I need to act accordingly. If I respond immediately, he has the upper hand. So I wait. I focus on my breathing, because even a breath too long or short can be picked up by him. I continuously monitor my every move and every thought that may possibly slip through my eyes. I think of the best possibilities; he gets upset and I leave with possibly just a bloody gash on a part of my body. Worst case scenario, I die. Which would not be so bad, if Mister would even allow it. Either way, I know I will get Mina on stage tonight.

Suddenly my eyes widen as I physically feel a pair of hands gently cup my ears. I’m semi-pulled into proper consciousness once more. Ace is awake and is now cupping my ears.

“Dally?”

I am dreaming, I’m reminded again. His voice echoes in this office room. I can still go back to sleep, so I feel myself shift my hand lazily to reach his arm. Not yet, I think, as I try my best to keep my dream state, prevent myself from fully waking up. I feel Ace’s tense muscle relax slightly, but he keeps his hands on my ears. I even feel him awkwardly maneuver himself in a more comfortable position above me before he slightly pushes pressure on my ears. The warmth on my ears soothes me, and I feel myself drifting back to sleep at the sound of his palms.

I am still lucid dreaming; I remind myself very clearly for the last time. At that thought, I look around. I am in a dream where Mister cannot touch me. The room settles back to normal, until my eyes lock onto something out of place. A grandfather clock settled in between the bookshelves. Its wooden frame was so dark it blended so well with the rest of the room. I stare at it.

“Where is your attention, Dahlia?” A low, muted voice sounds out and it is unfamiliar, not like Mister’s. But my eyes cannot help but be glued to the clock, the pendulum in its body swaying, but not a single sound is heard as the secondhand ticks away. Mister never had a grandfather clock in his office.

“You seem to have forgotten your manners,” the voice speaks out again, but I am now sure that it is not Mister’s.

“Forget?” I speak out. My muscles relax as the sound of underwater surrounds me, and I can still feel the warmth in Ace’s hands on my ears. I am not sure, but I think I feel a kiss on my forehead. I feel my own physical body reach up for his hands, while in my dream state I reach for my katana. My eyes stayed glued onto the grandfather clock, now slowly warping.

No, I mentally note to myself. Not a katana.

I feel that odd grip of a circular hilt in my hands now. I feel the heavy stone ring on my middle finger. As I approach the clock, I drew out my weapon.

“I could never forget,” I spoke out in my dream. Maia. Semira. Baba.

I lurch forward and slice, and a violent screech sounds around me. I watch as the grandfather clock shifts and twists at the slice of my naginata, before turning into black smoke. Amongst the black smoke, a pair of beady eyes glinted and rolled into dust, as I watch the dust envelope the entire office. The screeching is louder now, it rings in my ears and makes me curl.

I feel my upper body jolt up, but my head knocks into something hard. A loud voice is mixed with mine as I yelp from the pain on my forehead. I nurse my head, my head between my knees.

“Dally what the fuck,” Ace’s voice calls out to me. He curses under his breath, hissing. He was sitting up on the bed, leaning against the wall as he clutched his own head.

“Sorry,” I grunt as I rub my forehead with force. “Sorry.”

After a few seconds of wincing and hissing and groaning, we both fall into an odd, shy silence.

This feels weird. I slowly look up and peek at him. Oh, this is very new.

Ace is looking down, avoiding my eyes as he continuously rubs on his head. His voice is so gentle that it completely snaps me out of my sleepiness.

“You okay?”

This is _very_ new. What is this - this softness? I also notice a soft pink shade dust over his freckles, and I am puzzled. We just slept in the same bed, literally knocked out and slept through, from what I can tell as I look at the darkness of our room, an entire day. Ace was literally snoring up a storm in my ear. I know he kissed my forehead. What is this strange new tenderness we are feeling now that we are both fully awake?

“A lot better,” I respond, my voice barely audible but it is soft. I look over myself, my legs, my arms. They do not feel numb. I do not feel like throwing up. And I share this with Ace. I share how I am feeling, waking up normally for the first time.

“How are your arms?” He slowly reaches over to grab my arm. I saw the touch of hesitancy as he slowly reached over, as if waiting for any sense of rejection or expressed discomfort. I watch the ease of relief in him when he can touch my arm. His warmth once again gives me a sense of relief and comfort.

“A lot better because of you.”

The stiffness in his hand on my arm makes my heart flutter as his freckles grow even darker, his ears bright red.

Over breakfast and beer (dinner, actually), we could not stop talking. Ace absorb everything I say. I had given him my notebook, but the countless scribbles had put him off, and of course, I end up explaining everything. He sat and ate mountains of food, both of us continuously eating and talking with each breath we can spare in between our binging.

I felt like a huge boulder on my shoulder was relieved off me as I tell Ace my two months, and everything that happened and what I learned and know of. Despite having to fend off his hands from my own plate, I manage to catch him up to most recent events, including last night’s dream. On napkin, I drew up the two glass-stained windows I still remember so clearly. I feel a sense of relief, knowing that I got something out of this dream.

“Did something else happen in your dream?” Ace mentions as _my_ drumstick is in his mouth. “You were crying in your sleep.”

“I saw and remembered a lot of people.” And that was my last comment.

Gratefully, Ace does not pry further, as he looks down at the napkin. I had filled the areas where it was red with the black ink. He stares, his brows bunched together in intense focus.

“It looks familiar.”

I sit in silence as he lifts it up and draws his face closer to the napkin. I worry his oily and messy mouth will touch the napkin.

“We can call Marco later,” he continues. “But I think we should still go to our mission tomorrow. It’s an old run-down church.”

“Church?” I look at the pile of plates as I sip on my beer. I think Ace will knock out soon. Every now and then, despite how he has not slowed down on his eating, I catch him blinking hard.

“Yeah,” he grabs my unfinished my plate. He continues to stuff himself. “When this place got raided by those group of pirates and we were assigned to head over here, our folks stationed here reported some items being found that was odd.”

“Odd?”

Ace thumps his chest as he tried to swallow. “An abandoned church off coast. Lots of items hidden there that Skull thinks is urgent for us to check out. Especially you. That’s why Pops sent you that urgent message of a new mission before you even got home. There’s this abandoned marine ship over there.”

Another abandoned marine ship?

I stare at him in silence as I watch Ace blink hard again. I reach over to my back pocket as I am aware my partner is just about finished with eating. I start thinking about Pops, about how it slipped out my mind that he and the family were still gathering intel all this time. A wave of guilt washes over me as I place the heavy pouch of bellies on the table. My treat this time, as Ace had wasted and paid for two rooms.

“Well,” Ace starts awkwardly when I brought it up. He is stiff and polite. “I mean I can still use the other room toni-“

“Ace, please stay with me tonight,” I ask as nicely as I can. It was out of the question that I planned on sleeping alone. But I am sure even Ace knew that but just wanted to check, just in case. I discreetly take a deep breath as I try to hide the fast beating of my heart. We both know the bed is a bit tight. And I can still recall last night’s happenings in the hallway. I can still remember very vividly his fingertips trailing up my skin, his hand gracing my neck and upper chest. He must have notice what was passing through my mind, as he quickly averts his eyes to look down at his empty plate. Ears burning, I call out to him, hoping I was not making him feel uncomfortable with my selfish and upfront request.

“I don’t want to sleep alone yet. And you have helped me a lot during my sleep. More than you know.”

“Sure,” he responds softly in agreement, a little bit too quickly and eagerly. Again, my heart jumps at how soft and shy his voice is. His ears tinged pink as he looks straight ahead, shoving his pint of beer to his mouth. I follow suit and raise my own pint to my mouth, hiding my smile.

I am proven correct when later on I am looking down at the passed-out Ace on the bed. When he was done showering, his narcolepsy kicked in, and he immediately climbed onto bed. Sometimes it may often come at random, but I have noticed a sort of pattern in his narcolepsy. I have long noticed that the more tedious a task was or the more stressful a mission was to him either physically or mentally, his narcolepsy always hits just as hard the moment he is in a more relaxed setting. There are actually certain foods that can make him more prone to drowsiness too, but tonight, I thought to let him eat as freely as he would like, and rest as much as he would like before we venture off to complete the mission. A strangled snore snaps me out of my train of thought and a soft laugh comes out of me as I sit at the edge of the bed, staring at him. He must’ve have been incredibly stressed. Another wave of guilt crashes onto me.

He is a big guy and is taking up so much of the bed. I try to push him up a bit further up against the wall, but I curse at how ridiculously heavy he is when he is completely relaxed. I also start to feel drowsier than before, my own body dying to catch up on some sleep I have deprived myself of for the past two months. I look at the shirt he had oddly felt obligated to wear to bed with me, and I laugh once more before laying down beside him. A smell of vetiver travels to me. 

I feel my own body relax as I face him. A sense of relief rushes over me, as I no longer feel any pair of eyes on me from the corner of the room. I feel grateful as I lift an arm and gently brush a strand of hair away from Ace’s face, half his cheek smushed against the pillow, drool already pooling. I try to prevent my face from scrunching up in disgust, but my smile does not leave me regardless. I gently take one of his limp arms and wrap my arms around it loosely, hugging it a bit closer to me. I surprise myself as I drift off to sleep; Ace’s loud snores were not keeping me up. And I fall into a deep sleep, listening to it.

For the first time, I don’t dream of memories. I don’t dream of lost faces and old spaces. In fact, the next morning when I wake up, I can barely remember what I dreamed about, as majority of it was long forgotten when I awake to the face of my sleeping partner in a more peaceful slumber; his snoring long gone, his eyes a bit puffy while dried drool clung at the corner of his mouth, and his hand holding tightly onto mine.

#

“This is it?” I squint and look up against the blinding sun.

“Yeah. Should be.”

“It looks horrendous.”

Ace and I both stare up at the mere remnants of the building. Partial roofing was still there, and the grand building’s tall glass windows were still intact. Well, at least some, but enough that we were not able to clearly see inside unless we stepped in. We lazily followed protocol and trace the perimeter of the building, scoping. The old abandoned church was dull and gray.

“We should look at the marine ship first,” my commander calls out to me as I stare up at the building. The silence surrounding this area is eerie. Something feels unsettling about this area. I can tell Ace sensed it too. I turn around and follow suit. As we treaded towards the shore, we immediately spot what we were looking for. Not too far from us sat a marine ship that looked much too familiar. Both of us slowed down as we approached it.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I whisper in disbelief to myself. We are both now at a standstill, staring at the ship at a distance.

“Dally,” I hear Ace call out next to me. “You thinking what I’m thinking right?”

I do not respond just yet. I stare at the intact coating and color, I observe the torn flag, like a claw had ripped through it. It looked all too familiar. “Yeah.”

It is exactly like the marine ship in Emerald Isle, except new, not decaying, and not rotting. I reach an arm behind me, my hand out. I felt his hand grab it as I took a step forward.

It _is_ the ship. When we stand directly in front of it, we are both sure. The flag is ripped almost too similarly as the one in Emerald Isle. During my time on that island, I have stared at that ship for way too long to have not remembered. The same outdated model of government-issues ships, even the old-style marine coating was remarkably similar to what I had remembered. As I observe the ship, I can tell it’s been anchored here for quite a while due to the growing rust and moss near bottom of it. I feel Ace’s grip tighten and tense, awaiting my movement. But as I stare up at the ship confused, I listen to my gut for the first time. I am not going to explore it this time around. Semira was safe. Baba have not mentioned any other souls to be concerned about.

But before I can call out to Ace, he had spoken my own thought.

“I’m going to burn it, Dahlia.”

He looks over to me with a straight face, as if expecting me to challenge him. But I do not. Breaking away from his hand, I took a step back and rest a hand on my weapon.

In a second, the ship lit on fire. Both of us watch it burn and disintegrate in flames. We sit in the sand as we watch the ship burn, all the way till late noon.

“How can an object be in two places at once,” I spoke out. Both of us lulled over that thought. But we were stumped.

“…Dally, you think your seashell is also at another place right now?”

I whip my head to look at Ace. His eyes are trained on the remaining burning body of the ship, it’s remnants close to gone by now. I watch my commander think, plan, and map things out in his head silently, while my mind reels at that thought. I turn back to look at the church. At the corner of my eyes, I see something move inside, behind one of the dark, tall windows. I slowly get up, my eyes trained on the building. My muscles tense up so quick my arm cramps.

“Ace.”

At the tone of my voice, Ace gets up and turns around. My hand is on the back of my belt, where my weapon rested. My muscles were tense, and Ace was so quiet I had to look back to make sure he is still behind me before I make my way forward.

As I lead my way, Ace covered me. He keeps a distance as he follows, as a wider view was safest for the both of us. We follow our protocol when it was a two-person team in a single mission. If it were beyond our hands, we would call for back up. But we know, reported or not, back up was already on its way because in the end, Edward Newgate will always be a father, and fathers worry. With that in mind, the grip on my hilt tightens as we reach a broken part of the building. We slip in.

The silence inside heightened. The crackling of the burning ship and the crashing of waves were no longer audible. I steady my breathing and look around. It was odd that so many items and possessions littered this old place. If that mob of a pirate crew had tried raiding this place, they had done a poor job. It was too awfully neat and undisturbed, and there were still quite some shiny, gold items. Not a single dust touched any of them, while they covered the rest of the entire building. Like someone had hoarded random things, countless objects both useless and expensive piled up inside the building. It was overwhelming, as it felt like we entered someone’s vault of valuables. But only our footsteps were marked in the dust-covered ground. Goosebumps form on my skin as I look down to my left at something glinting on the old and broken altar, catching my attention. Something lavender with gold furnishings was carefully placed alone there.

I almost call out for Ace, but something prevents me from doing so as my eyes lock onto the small item. I slowly approach it, with Ace following closely behind. I twist my belt to have my large dagger rest in front of me, at the front of my hip. My hand stays on its hilt.

It is my seashell mirror. My eyes widened as I stand before it, staring at it. It is not new and full of luster as I had found it back in my room two months ago. It is my actual mirror, the one I had left in that rotting marine ship in Emerald Isle – chipped in its luster and full of scratches. Panic rises in me as there is only one thing in my mind.

“Burn it, Ace.”

Immediately, flames reach it, and the seashell erupts into flames. I turn around to search for Ace’s eyes, trying to find some type of grounding. I was thoroughly confused and hoped his eyes would reflect the same to ease my own sanity. But as I turn to look at him, something past him catches my eyes as it leads me to crane my neck up in horror. Ace also turns around in my direction, looking up at the two massive windows at the main entrance. Two big glass stained windows showed beautiful and haunting images of angels staring down at us, mourning, grieving in time. Amongst its colors the color red blinds us, vivid and bright despite how the low sun can barely reach through the windows now.

As the hairs on my neck stand straight, a low wicked voice drawls out behind my ear.

“Welcome home, Dahlia.”

The hand still grabbing onto my hilt rips my weapon out my sheath as I whip around.


	18. Chapter 18

My eyes can barely keep up. Every hair on my body stood straight. I could not even control the chills spreading throughout my body. But when I turn around, whoever - or whatever, was not there.

“Ace,” I call out in an uneven warning. I only spoke his name, but he more than understood my tone. _Be on look out._

We inch closer to each other until our backs touched, looking and anticipating in silence. I do not know which is making my legs weaker, the intense chills from the familiar voice still echoing in my head or Ace’s silence. His silence is so angry, so in rage. His presence is so still, as if waiting- begging for whatever haunting me to step out. Our muscles were tense from the stillness; its potential energy remained locked in place as we listen for the slightest sound or change of energy.

I hear one of Ace’s fist alight in flames and I touch his arm. His body heat had risen and it can be felt fiercely against my fingertips. I whisper to him. “Not yet.”

When I lock eyes on him for a split second, I saw the madness in his eyes and it strikes me with such fear. He was itching to fight. He wanted to burn everything in sight. I hiss even louder.

“ _Not. Yet._ ”

As much as the both of us felt only right to destroy the entire place, it did not feel right to me just yet. Whoever is here needed to step out first. A million thoughts were passing through my head as I continue to listen to the deafening silence.

Whichever countless ways my thoughts went, I needed Boogeyman present before us before we attempt anything else.

“Ace,” I whisper to him as I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise again. “When I tell you to, destroy _everything_.”

He does not respond, but I can almost hear him think.

“I need him here, Ace,” I tell him through gritted teeth. My head snaps towards something I sense to my right. Nothing but books and piled up junk laid up against the wall. “I need him here before us.”

I feel his hand gently touch my trembling wrist.

At that second, a black figure forms in the corner past the altar. An echo of subtle, dark laughter is fading in. I hear Ace’s arm slowly raise as his flames follow. I position my dagger, and with my dominant hand, I motion it to extend into my true weapon. I feel a rising nausea start in the bottom of my stomach as I face the shadow. There it is again - the pair of beady eyes.

“Now!”

Ace shouts in response before I sense an explosive gust of hot wind head my way. Everywhere around me was lit on fire. I wave my weapon and swung it down, directing the flames to another direction, towards another stack of possessions, trying to burn up the things closest to the shadow’s touch. I prayed that my hunch does not disappoint me for the first time. Bottom line is, if an object can move and be at two places in time at once, it was sure the Boogeyman can be as well. Wrong or not, we should destroy all these possessions.

“Ace, keep the fire surrounding us!”

To my slight relief, I see an increased alertness in the pair of eyes hiding in the smoke. The eyes dart back and forth, attempting to find anything not touched by fire. In that moment, I lunge forward at it with my weapon, directing Ace’s fierce flames to burn the rest surrounding us. The eyes immediately snap back to me, and I am suddenly halted in my tracks. I felt a sense of heavier relief when I see the both of us were surrounded Ace’s ring of fire. The Boogeyman has nowhere to go.

“You stubborn bitch,” a voice hisses out.

My relief quickly dissipates when I find I still cannot move. I am paralyzed. My limbs refuses to move.

“You’re lucky you caught me in your dream.” The voice bellowed louder. The voice was heavy and low, and it drawled out in a grating sound. “Didn’t think you would be able to, but…lucky you. Or I’d be able to kill you on the spot right now.”

I can hear Ace call out my name, but in a split second, his voice is muted and I am surrounded in thick clouds of dark, filthy smoke. It was so thick and dark, my surroundings were gone. I want to call out for Ace, but my voice is not coming out. A harsh whisper sounds from behind me again, and it chills me to the bone.

“You can’t _kill_ me, Dahlia.”

I’m breathless from the raspy chill of the voice. My skin forms goosebumps, and my stomach drops in panic. Amongst the smoke ahead of me, something visible but not yet solid was forming. Slowly and gradually, like a pair of eyes adjusting in the dark, a vague, slender and long figure is seen. It was prominent enough to be seen in this dark cloud, but not enough for me to see anything clear except his eyes, the whites of his eyes ghastly.

“You can’t kill fear.”

I am begging for my own body to move. I am not sure if I am paralyzed with fear, or by him. Perhaps they were the same at this point.

“Dahlia, Dahlia, Dahlia,” the voice calls out my name, and each time it gets me more nauseous, because it was reaching its familiarity in my mind. “Sweet, Dahlia. You’ve done well.”

The figure amongst the clouds seemed to be approaching me and it frightened me. I’ve seen this occur so many times in my sleep; paralyzed and helpless as I knew I was unable to wake myself up, prevent my mind from drifting into deep sleep. Right at that moment before I would lose conscious in bed, there was always a figure from the corner. Never truly visible, yet enough for the hairs on the back of my arms to alert me that I was not alone. It was ghastly and ghost-like, silent and looming despite it not taking space. That few seconds before falling into sleep was the only time I finally notice it can move. Each and every time in my most vulnerable state at night, I always felt this figure move in silence from the corner, slowly approaching to the foot of wherever I laid. Each time, I was always unable to see what it was, because I realized only my fear made me see it, sense it. Each night, I had felt the strike of fear within me before my mind lost itself into sleep, unable to control, unable to defend.

So I feel my skin crawl as I am aware how wide awake I am now, staring at the figure I have longed felt powerless because of my sleep. This time, this minute of intense fear is stretched and present, and it was taking my breath away. I stand powerless once more, watching the figure approach me. The excruciating silence was the red carpet it walked on. I feel the distance closing in from how much clearer the voice was near me.

“You’ve tried,” the voice speaks out again, and this time it surrounds me. “That’s all that matters.”

I try to scream again with no success. The closer he got, the more my heart was beating in fear and panic.

“I’m sure you’ve recognized by now, my sweet,” what felt like a finger graze my face and it was ice cold. Memories of the same cold hand that have bathed and touch me reels in my mind. “But you know those devil fruit users are useless against Mythicals like us.”

My eyes stare wide and hard at the pair of beady eyes before me. I can see yet not see a form of a face and it puts my panic in overdrive. My fear of the unknown and unsureness makes it hard for me to breath, to process my sight. The sight before me overstimulates my senses and it is hard to take in what is being spoken to me.

“Sirens,” the man before me calls out as I feel a finger trace along my collarbone. “Pity those women cannot reproduce. Absolute pity, or else our experiments could have been more… _fun._ Seems wasteful that they pass their souls down to mere humans.”

“Dahlia,” the voice calls out to me again. “Sweet Dahlia. Do you know what Sirens’ biggest downfall is?”

I cannot speak.

“Time, my dear. Do you know why?”

I knew. At that second, I felt I knew. The bastard did not need to say it, but I knew. Something was bubbling within my stomach now. It was boiling, rising, and I can feel it slowly override my fear. I was angry. I knew, but I did not want to hear it from him.

“Because of all the world’s fate you carry on your shoulders. You guys see all that is ahead. You guys even _try_ to tinker with the past, you’re cursed.”

_Stop_ , I scream in my head. My mind reels as images of Baba’s somber face in front of her blue fire passes through my mind, the image of her face seared in my head when she could not see my own fate. I remember when Semira’s tear streaked her face as she did her best to keep herself composed speaking of her sister, what Baba kept mumuring softly to her – strong mantras meant to strike someone being carefully sewn into gentle and tender whispers for Semira. _Let the river flow, let it flow_ , Baba would quietly say, her own weathered and aged fingers wiping Semira’s tears away. _It’s the only way forward._ I thought of Semira, crying as she stood there, her head straight and chin high, staring straight ahead as she allowed herself to cry her eyes out.

Something was burning within me, itching me and the blood that circulated in my veins.

“See, dreams and nightmares from the mind are powerful things. That’s where the best of my abilities thrive,” the man entertains. “So technically, with my powers, I can’t really…kill, per say. Let’s say it’s the trap I lay in my hunt to eat.”

“What I can do,” a wicked smile can be practically heard from his voice. The voice is circling around me now. “Is lead folks to their death. _Fear_ , my love, is a powerful, beautiful thing.”

“Human minds are so easily tricked in a dream state. I can build an entire maze and they think they’re in reality. Your human mind, your head,” Beady eyes stop in front of me again, closer than before. I feel another finger tap firmly at my temple. Nails sharp. “free of time, free of the confines of reality and of linear sense. I can come in and out of people’s lives easily because I am never one being. I am everything and anything fear can manifest. I am the demons and spirits religion and society invoke into young children. Me – the idea of me, the fear of me in this world – never one thing, never one being. Human minds are beautiful, isn’t it? Their idea of anything mythical, and how it carries on for centuries. I’m the demon of nightmares. Wherever fear is, I can manifest. I can be conjured, rebirthed.”

A cold, pale hand with elongated fingers and long, sharp and dark nails appear before me. It displays itself palms up, fingers spread apart as if it was about to hold onto something. “Give me an item – your belongings, and find how easily one can be trapped in a nightmare. Things held and touched for so long holds and traps more than one thinks. I know your environments, dear Dahlia. I know how you like to sleep, what keeps you up. I know when you are nervous, when you are not. I know what stirs your attention and what can be slipped right under your nose.”

The ghost-like hand closes into a fist. “Just like that, a soul-less item becomes alive, and I can go in and out of people’s lives, in and out of different points of time on one’s mind. The more I learn, the more alive and real the nightmares are, the more fear will make you lose your grip on reality. Fun, but humans have patterns that even I grow old of.”

“But Sirens. Good lord, something about you women is…delightful.” A cold hand is on my stomach now, and it feels like ice. I want to gasp, but I am unable to. It strokes the side of my abdomen, gently and slowly, with an intimacy like he knew my body well and it make my skin crawl. “Your mind is everything with time. Just so _sensitive_ that it is delightful. It is truly fascinating. Even women touched by a Siren. Just a tad of blood, one drop is all I need and you’re all mine. So potent, unlike humans’. Their blood does nothing, no matter the amount. The most I can do is make them forget a memory, turn it into a nightmare. Their brains are so dense, they’re so easily tricked with their own minds I barely need to do anything. I guess mythical creatures are just something I have developed a fine addiction for.”

Suddenly, I feel something puncture the skin of my stomach. It stung at first, and it took another long second to realize within my numbing fear that a few fingers pierced into me, long fingers wiggling and edging itself into me. Upon that realization, the instant pain grows on me and is felt, and I can barely breathe from it. The voice sucked his teeth in pity. “You shouldn’t have killed me in your dream. If you didn’t try to face your fears, you wouldn’t have to feel this, my dear. But I digress – all that work you did for nothing.”

I want to scream. It hurt so much as he slowly removed his fingers from my stomach. As he slowly withdrew his fingers, I can feel the warmth of my blood trail down my midsection, dripping down to my leg. I can’t move my head, but when I look down, all I can see if the increasing droplets of crimson blood on my weapon held rigid and frozen in my hand.

My eyes flicked up, and I watch in horror as a bloody hand reaches to my eye-level right before me, in front of a figure of a head I can barely make out within the dark smoke that held those eyes. A tongue flicks out and disappears in a second, lapping only the slightest amount with the tip of its tongue. In that moment, I felt the breath in me gone. I no longer felt the pain in my abdomen nor the warmth of my spilling blood. My body was numbing again. I gasp as I feel the familiar intensity of nausea return, and I wanted to throw up. I feel spasms in my throat as it retches, but nothing comes out. I was paralyzed, even within my lungs. I can barely breathe, as my lungs could barely expand, my chest could barely heave for air. Panic arises within me, and the boiling that I felt in the pit of my stomach dissipates. All and any grip of clear thinking or plotting was slowly being lost. I felt it.

“I guess mythical creatures are just something I have developed a fine taste for. I cannot help myself,” the delight and glee I heard in his voice made me sicker. It sounded maddening, high off its own sort of ecstasy.

“You are fascinating! You Sirens. So sensitive to the past, because you beings live as steppingstones for the future. Accessories. Sirens can never look back. So when someone dabbles with your mind when they shouldn’t, have your blood when they shouldn’t, what happens? What happens when a Siren’s soul, whose duty is to behold the world’s fate, becomes trapped in their own past?”

Semira’s state when I had found her flashes before my mind. Like rotting flesh. Her skin, her eyes, her body, her limp – something rung my heart as I think back. I think of my own body, attempting to recover from its own severe damages, withered and broken down from the past two months. The wicked laugh that boomed and rung out around me chilled me to the bone, sinister and dreadful.

“Killed by your own nightmare! Killed by _me!_ ”

The laughter was uncontrollable now, as if it was losing itself in its own pleasure, in its own high on power. I was mentally screaming, trying my best to move, to breathe for air, to do _something_. The faster the staccato of this laugh was heard, the more panic and fear struck within me, but my eyes could not tear away from the pair of haunting eyes before me. I watched in transfixed horror, as it seemed the vague figure within the smoke was slowly growing clearer, more solid and hauntingly pale. The skin looked blurred, almost featureless besides its eyes. Everything of the figure, of what I believed to be the Boogeyman, was slender, long. Goosebumps raised on my skin as it stood there, still. I can’t make out a mouth, but the voice rings out.

“You should be honored. I’ve discovered eating souls of your kind is a better delicacy than little children lost in their own nightmares. The reward is just as good as the hunt. You never disappoint.”

As the voice continued speaking, something was boiling in me once again. Something familiar, hot and searing was boiling in the pit of my stomach again. It didn’t reach its peak yet, because I felt it spread and travel through me, something different traveling through my veins as the blood in my was near lost. As the Boogeyman continues to ramble, a dreadful realization dooms over me, like a heavy dark cape. He was right. He was and will continue to haunt me. He has been my whole life. He lurked in the fear of myself, in my memories and in my dreams. He is in the trauma and aftereffects that will take Semira a while to shake off. He will probably be the way I will countlessly go back and forth with my own dreams and memories – inspecting and worrying its meaning, trusting and distrusting it, rejecting and accepting it – dancing endlessly back and forth never knowing rest. He was still going to be there, which made everything I felt before me right at this moment even more tiring, more exhausting. I’ve danced with the devil my whole life.

As my body continues to boil at this realization, this growing familiar feeling of exhaustion is dawning over me at rapid speed. This feeling of accepting defeat, accepting it as it is – it creeps onto to me like an itch and it irritates me. I felt this at the resort. When Mister had beaten me to bleed till near death, when I thought a broken bone was a vacation compared to a grown client at the age of sixteen. When I thought young girls performing at the stage was a victory if they were not catering to alcoholic pirates at the bar. I felt this for the past two months, especially when I had expected a look of disappointment and disgust from my own family. And it now angered me. The voice continued talking, and I continued to boil from this annoying, irritating feeling of exhaustion that I felt so sick and annoyed of feeling. My weapon was now close to being completely covered and soaked in my own spilled blood. My hand as well.

Enough. What am I doing?

I was losing a lot of blood in a quickened pace. My fear was receding as slowly as this daunting realization creeping in from the base of my skull. As I stared at the figure before me, tall, slender, white like death, I thought of the many others before me. The horrors that must have been done on plenty others. So many people harmed, and so many more who continue to be harmed – all not directly by the figure before me, but egged, encouraged, led, guided; its little seeds that plant their roots so deep into our heads, waiting for a chance to cling onto something and grow.

Enough.

Suddenly, I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand as I sense something. Something vibrating, shaking, coming our way. The black smoke’s direction did not flow the same way as it did as it continued to swirl around me. It looked as if it was greatly disturbed. It snapped me out of my sluggish mind as I hear Ace’s voice, strangled from how loud he was yelling out my name. It was full of anger but there was a tone in it that had made me open my eyes wide. There was a tone of direct purpose, specifically to me. It strained itself to break through this barrier, to reach and strike something in my chest.

“Dahlia!”

It shook me, just as how the smoke seemed to quiver from a slice of heavy air that swept to through us. It even makes the beady eyes in front of me widen in surprise. It was the same gust of wind I had felt when I had awoken to Ace at my bedside as he was about to destroy the seashell. I realized then that this must be Ace’s haki. Whatever is boiling within me is searing within me, and I feel the ground before me tremble. The nausea was fading overrode by the heat within me, suffocating almost every part of me and my senses. I felt like I was burning up more and more as the ground trembled stronger. Once again, Ace’s shout strained out again despite it firm and fierce. It rang out so loud it felt closer.

“You better not die in there! I swear to god.” His voice cracked from the last few words. “You promised!”

In a second that happened faster than my senses can process it, I break my paralysis. Instinctually – free of any thought or fear or emotion – my body moved. I slice upwards at the figure before me, once again touching _something_ as my weapon hits something. I watch eyes react in pain from the slice, surprised he did not go up in smoke. As a loud and angry groan of pain rings out, I glance down at my blade, a good portion of my blood wiped from the hit. I suddenly think back to when he took only one small lick of my blood, nothing more despite his hand was filled with it.

Potent? Addicting?

But before I can process the observation any further, the pain in my stomach returns, and my limbs are heavy. I feel lightheaded and faint as the exhaustion was purely felt now. I can hear myself heave, my breathing raspy and coarse. My breath was painful. As I took a step back, I can hear my own blood spill onto the flat ground. The Boogeyman hissed; the voice now higher, shrill. It rung in my ears and I gasped.

“Fool!” It bellowed. “I see playing nice will not work. Perhaps I’ll _show_ you the countless experiments on you Sirens instead of telling you! You will truly know all and everything your kind has been through now. You’ll understand that _I_ know you better than you can ever know yourself!”

But I cannot pay attention anymore. The last remaining focus I can cling onto was spent on another voice I was hearing off in the distance the same time Boogeyman spoke.

“When I destroy the entirety of this,” Ace’s sounded out. There was so much confidence and threat in his voice aimed at me, while forceful self-reassurance was aimed at himself. It strained from its loud volume that pierced into my heart. He was shouting to the both of us, for he also wanted to make sure I was not slipping away - again. “It will be your own fault for getting caught in it! Do you hear me, Dahlia?”

It was an order from my Second Commander. A direct order that I better be alive once he was done.

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to take in a deep breath, and I hear my throat rasp, struggling to follow. With my weapon used as leverage to heave myself up, standing straighter as I face the dark figure before me. I felt warm liquid trickle all over me. I heaved a breath as I felt the humidity trapped in this area rise as slowly. The figure did not advance on me, for he was also as concerned of the surroundings behaving beyond his control. I could barely breath, but a delirious grin gritted on my teeth as I tilted my head up and screamed out, so loud my vocal cords must have ripped.

“As if you can _ever_ get rid of me! Portgas D. Ace!”

Suddenly, another gust of heavy pressure slices past us, and I can see partial smoke dissipate before it tried to recover its surrounding wall. Within that split second of opening, from the slight opening of barrier, I had a peek of outside and it refreshed and stimulated my senses. Ace’s flames had wrapped around us, bright, orange, red, angry and bright. Ace’s figure stood, all aflame in its maddening glory. Wisps of blue flames catches my attention, ones that I instantly recognize, and my heart beats a bit stronger. Before the smoke encloses once more, my heavy-lidded eyes glazed along the dark and hazy silhouettes of countless men in the background far behind Ace’s figure. Shouts, yells – a chaotic scene that I somehow yearned to reach. Boogeyman’s figure also falters more before it regathers its vague form again. The shocked, widened eyes before me makes my grin spread wider. I took a couple of short breaths before I focused back on the figure before me. I was surrounded by black smoke again, the sound of outside muted.

“Impossible,” the voice hisses fiercely, but broken, as it sounded like it was choking on the intense heat now entrapped in the confines of the smoke. It was rapidly increasing, baking. “The man has haki?”

“Enough.” I rasped out in disgust as I drew my naginata back, calling his attention back to me. My skin felt near tinged from the intense and heavy heat. My throat was immensely parched. I no longer felt concerned about the smoke around me as it now felt minute. Boogeyman said so confidently that Devil Fruit Users could not touch him, and yet Ace had proven me wrong. My grin widened. Me? A delicacy? When he let my own blood on his hand go to waste? I stick my arm forward and steady my own long weapon. I pointed it at him.

“This will be the last time you speak of us. _You_ are the filth, unworthy.”

I did not want to process anything anymore. I don’t want to know from him. All these useless things he talks of and throws at me seemed so minute and far away now. Not a single fear was felt, just impatience. I had enough. Enough of Boogeyman spewing what he thinks as the all-seeing knowledge of Sirens when in reality, it was just pain he extracts from violence, violation, destruction, mass murder. I have Baba in all her beauty and elegance. I have Semira, her voice and her laughter, her giggles that seemed to mix so well with the salt in the sunsetting air. Images of Ace that last dawn on Emerald Isle plays in my head and a wave of calmness washed over me. At the image of him, I realized why the look on his face was so rare, so meaningful that it continued to haunt me. In his eyes held only me - reflection of me I saw so clearly, so happy to surrender in my heartbreak, so happy to be so helpless in his eyes. Ace had held in his eyes the best of me. And I craved it so desperately now, in this very moment.

I have had enough. I wanted to go home already.

“ _Foolish_ girl.” The voice hisses and it is so loud that it surrounds me. It was enraged, as there was now a sort of rattling in its shrills. I watched as the pale head of the figure trembles, and something like a torn slit forms below the pair of eyes. Like a thread being pulled out, a gaping hole rips the head open almost in half. Bearing jagged and sharp teeth, saliva and foam was near dripping out. My grip on my weapon tightens and I wince. I force myself to respond.

“You speak of darkness like it’s a bad thing,” I spoke out softly. My thought, in its weak, numbed sensation wanders for a split second, wondering how nice it would be to see the moon now. I force my legs to spread and I steady my stance. “Did you forget, that there is nothing more beautiful than darkness. You’re just another resident in it. ‘Know me more than I know myself’, huh? _”_

In the back of my mind, and from the energy conjured behind my heart, I spoke within myself a prayer as I raised my dominant arm before me, the black ring darker than the smoke. I hoped it reached Baba and Semira. And I hoped it reached Maia deep within me. It was a very selfish prayer – a prayer for guidance but also for forgiveness. I don’t want to know anymore. Sirens, my history, generations of pain – the search for that knowledge has caused and will cause too much pain that I don’t have enough of a lifetime for.

I brought down the front of my weapon with great force and sliced at my own arm. A huge gash stung as blood poured. The sound of my blood spilling sounds flatly against the cold ground. It reminds me of the small trickling of clear water at the temple, water from the pond full of beautiful and bejeweled fish, the elixir of life flowing out and down the steep stairs, touched, protected and draped in life of moss and plants. I take another breath. I leap forward without another second to spare.

“Before you declare that,” I growled, closing the distance between me and the pale figure, forcefully ramming my arm into the gaping mouth with as much force as I can gather in my bloody arm, tackling him backwards.

“You make sure you can handle _all_ of me first!”

I pray my own pain, Baba’s, Maia’s, and Semira’s pain can become a poison as I watch my blood pour and choke the figure. I press more firmly against the disgusting mouth clamped on my arm. My eyes were wide and rabid as I felt my own intense drive to focus, making sure I witnessed as he gurgled and choked. He was screaming into my arm now, biting down hard, its teeth ripping and sinking into my flesh and grating my bone. But it felt like nothing compared to the rage I was feeling. My blood was still boiling inside me, as hot as the the obsidian ring now glowing as bright as lava. The side of the figure’s head the ring touched singed black, putrid smoke seen and smelled. My stomach was still burning hot. I watched in such a rage that it shook me, made my mind scream until I could not think. I watched because I needed to. I wanted to bear witness.

The veins popping out of his pale and close translucent skin was showing, churning hues of green and purple. His eyes were close bulging, as if about to come out of his sockets. I sunk my arm further into his stuck mouth, tightening my lock around his head. The strength in his bite is softening as he continues to choke on my blood, and the skin began to turn ashen gray. If my blood were so addicting, I pray there would be a type of over dosage. If it did not work, I pray Ace would forgive me. My heart beats louder and a rush of adrenaline at that thought coursed through me, making me scream as I pushed my bloody arm against the rotting body even more. I was pushing to hard I was trembling, screaming in both agony and anger.

A loud bang was heard as the smoke around me was swiped and clearing, like someone had clawed on it. At the same time, I see partial of it disappearing from an extraordinarily strong vibration. Through the thick smoke I saw blue flames enter. My vision was blurring from the loss of blood, but I needed to focus now more than ever. I look back down at the decaying figure below me. 

“I may have not killed the entirety on you,” I spoke out to him as his body stilled. “But you have not killed me yet, not one bit. That’s all that matters.”

The disfigured body began to crumble. It fully rotted before me and suddenly my arm was no longer being bitten down. The head locked in my arm in was depleting, like a rotting fruit. As I let go and straightened my arm, I felt the ring on my finger cooling down. Black liquid that had entered my arm from the bite came oozing out. When the blood that bled out my arm turned from black, purple, then to a normal red, the burning glow of my ring slowly faded back to its usual, obsidian ring.

My ears were ringing. As I look down at my own body soaked in my own blood, I swayed, little droplets of thick red liquid dancing around me. I felt light. With the remaining energy I reached for my weapon and gently tapped it on the ground in defeat, allow the weapon to break back into its dagger. The boiling in my stomach was dying down, the shaking of the ground gradually ceased. I looked up as the smoke around me finally cleared. Up ahead where Ace’s flames did not touch, past the gaping hole of this now burning church, I saw a tide receding and crumbling, a protected layer of air seemingly surrounding us. Something suddenly had leaped out into my line of sight. Something beautifully blue.

“Marco,” I called out as his face seemed closer to me. I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his eyes, fierce, alert, protective in all its angered savageness – a product from the fear of losing a loved one.

I am present. I am here. I wonder if Baba can feel it. My soul still here. My grip on my dagger was slowly loosening, no matter how much I mentally begged my hand to hold onto it.

“Brother,” I called out, attempting to take a step forward. My footing gave out and I felt myself fall forward. I rested my eyes, as the last thing I saw were dancing blue flames enwrapping me, full of warmth and gentleness, drawing out from within me an intense wave of relief. Something even warmer softly wrapped around my bleeding arm, and another enclosed my hand, preventing me from losing my weapon. The last thing I hear before I slipped into darkness was Ace’s voice calling out my name, and a smile creeps onto my lips.


	19. Chapter 19

When I had woken up, I laughed.

I couldn’t help myself. When I was finally conscious, I had found myself on The Moby Dick, completely bedridden like how I was day one of when I first joined. I was completely wrapped up in bandages, with my hand gripped tightly by Ace. My eyes were heavy, and my throat was parched. The only thing that did not prevent me from feeling a sense of déjà vu was the fact that this time, I was in my own room now. And this time, Ace’s narcolepsy must have hit faster, because he was heavily knocked out, his throat on my thigh, his face awkwardly craned up, close to lifeless.

I had caught Marco slapping the back of Ace’s head the moment I opened my eyes, cursing under his breath at how Ace should just leave if all he’s going to do was fall on me at random times. Before I could help myself, I was laughing, causing Marco to quickly frown in irritation after he noticed I was awake. I am not sure how long I was laughing, but it hurt my tightly wrapped arm and stomach. Marco nagged at me for laughing when I needed to shut up and let myself heal.

“Sorry, sorry,” I waved the hand Ace had a death grip on. I let it fall back down. “Just…just glad to be home.”

Marco fell silent as he tended to my bruise on my leg, brightly blue and purple.

We fell silent and I watched him. I felt immensely lighter. I felt like what had happened at the church felt like centuries ago. Boogeyman, the idea of Mister, the wrath of fear – everything felt like a great distance away from me. I felt safe. I must be, because here I am, alive. I wasn’t sure if it was the medication, or my escape from death, but I felt very much alive. And as the rotting body of the Boogeyman was still replayed in my head – I felt grateful.

“Marco,” I called out to him. He raised an eyebrow in response but continued to rewrap my leg. “I’m sorry.”

I watched Marco heave out the most silent sigh. I can tell from the rise and fall of his chest. Emotions swelled in my own as I thank the gods above that his eyebags were not as dark and severe like the first time I was bedridden on the Moby Dick. No exhaustion besides the proof of anxiety and worry in those furrowed brows of his. I really was reckless the past few months, and I am sure Marco did not want this to happen again.

“You can make it up for it by recovering as fast as you can, Dahlia.”

A tear ran down my face before I realized it.

“And for the love of Davy Jones, _please_ give us a break before you throw yourself into another fire. Give us a break first.”

A grin broke out as I retorted. I blinked any remaining tears away. “Yeah but you guys will always be there to drag me out.”

“Every damn time.”

I quietly giggled as Marco continued to mutter off to himself, about kids being young and reckless. I looked down at Ace, still sleeping in an awfully awkward position on my thigh with his intense grip on my hand. I hope he woke up from his narcolepsy soon, so he can be assured and relieved when he sees me conscious and healing.

“Marco,” I called out again as I recollected my last memories. I look back at my brother. “What happened? When I was trapped in that black smoke?”

Marco was quiet as he finished my leg. He sighed as he took a seat at the end of my bed.

“Don’t know. But Ace was going crazy. We reached the place right at the end. Pops had to protect the entire area. I think you conjured up another tsunami. Our ship almost crashed ashore from the rush of water driving us towards your location.”

Marco was lost in thought.

“Ace said his powers barely did anything to the smoke. His Haki did a little, but he couldn’t get through.”

I stared at Marco. I remembered Marco effortlessly flying through the smoke. “But you did.”

Marco nodded absentmindedly.

“Boogeyman – or whatever it was - mentioned something about mythical creatures. Mythicals. About devilfruit users having no use against mythical powers.”

Again, Marco is nodding absentmindedly. It seemed he was already three steps ahead of me, as this was not news that was shocking him. Again, I admired him, watching him think as he had his elbows on his knees, rubbing the lower half of his face as he continued thinking.

“Dahlia,” he called out after a few minutes, his eyes glued onto a spot on the floor. As he pulled back to straight up, it felt like he was pulling himself out of his thoughts. “You’re of a Siren’s soul, but there has not been a devil fruit that has yet to appear with your powers.”

We fell silent. Marco was still quiet, still staring down onto the floor.

“My devil fruit is the powers of the Phoenix. Although limited, it is rare, and it is mythical.”

Marco was in deeper thought. His jaw was clenched. His profile was spectacular, and often times I forget how handsome he is. He jaw clenched again before speaking.

“I only have theories. But I think, if there’s a mythical fruit, it came from the last Mythical dying. And it of course ties back to the Void History. We don’t know anything.”

“If you want,” he proceeded slowly. “We can ask Baba about this. She would be the only one able to connect the thoughts.”

Marco finally turns to me, his eyes soft. “But that is up to you. You’ve done enough, and you need to make a decision that is not under an obligation.”

I scoff, but it was not off ill intention. “Coming from you is rare.”

A small smile breaks out on Marco’s face, and the first time it is a relaxed one. “I do it so you don’t have to, Dahlia.”

I smile, but my thoughts wander. Marco assured me to take the few days of recovery to think it over.

“Why’d you do it?” Marco asked, changing the subject. It felt like it was a question he had been dying to ask me in all his curiosity. There was no frustration in his tone, or anger. Just amazement and wonder, almost incredulous that I had worked a miracle unexplained. “What made you do something so reckless?”

It hit me that he was referring to my arm and blood. I agreed; it really was a terrible risk. Thinking about it now, fully rested and have survived it, it was indeed such a horrific decision. I really could’ve died.

“I…don’t know,” I whispered. I stared at my hand in Ace’s. “Would you laugh if I called it my hunch?”

“He mentioned and obsessed over my blood,” I continued. “Talked about me and Sirens, how sensitive and weak we were, how hunted we are. Like an exotic sport of his.”

I fell silent and Marco sits in it in all his patience. I was momentarily lost in thought before I hear myself continue.

“He speaks all that and yet when he had my blood, he took only a bit of it, and let the rest go to waste. I don’t know,” I murmured. “I thought, for someone who so proudly called themselves the demon of nightmares, he was pretty cowardly not taking in all that spilled blood that was tied to all our tragedy and pain he liked to glorify so much of.”

I even smile in amusement at that thought. “I thought, ‘god, this being or entity – whatever the hell he was, _really_ thinks he is a god, huh? When I bet he can’t even handle half the things I’ve gone through’. And what I’ve gone through isn’t even half of what Baba probably gone through. So…if my blood and soul is really all the hot shit he talks of, he better put his money where his mouth is. I grew impatient with him. I saw your flames and thought how tired I was. How much I wanted to just go back home. And how much trouble I’d be if you found out I stood there and let an enemy talk and talk. I would’ve had my ass handled by you or Izo if I didn’t shut him up.”

I looked up at Marco, expecting none of this to make any sense to him. But he was sitting there with an amused look on his face.

“You’re a cocky little bastard, aren’t you?”

I laugh at his comment. It was nice to be teased by him again. I felt I was truly back home. My heart hurt at that thought.

“Sometimes when Ace acts out,” Marco spoke out. His eyes were soft as he looked down at the mentioned man, who was snoring away in bliss. “I see a younger you and think, ‘let her handle him, teach herself a lesson of how annoying she was when she was like that’. And sometimes when you act out, I’m thinking, ‘let Ace handle her, because she’s acting like a younger version of him. That can be a good lesson.’”

I stare at him, my brother lost in his own amused thoughts before he continues.

“You both age each other well,” he spoke quietly. “But sometimes I wish you guys met in a different universe, in a different lifetime where you guys had the privilege of time to age. You’re both so young, constantly throwing yourselves into fires. Sometimes I feel you guys are too busy chasing fires to be lovebirds – to age how I know you guys can age. I feel like I’m flipping a coin constantly, wondering which one of you will give out in the fire first.”

I stared down at Ace in silence. Marco’s words laid down a heavy truth in a form of an untouched stone I had not yet chipped and sculpted to its full comprehension. It sunk slowly in me as my focus grazed from my held hand to my wrapped arm. I stared at Ace’s naked arm, marked with plenty of old scars and a large bruise on his shoulder that was finally lightening and fading.

Marco sighs before getting up. “Don’t mind me. Old man and his worries. Nothing new.”

I scoff as his own comment. He looked nothing of old. But I watch in silence as he stretches, groaning from the exhaustion. Suddenly, Ace’s abrupt awakening catches us both off guard. Ace gasps before letting out a noisy exclamation, straightening up and looking around in confusion. Drool was still glistening from the corner of his mouth as he whipped his head around in a daze and looked at Marco, before looking back around at me.

“Hey,” he mutters in a sigh of relief, before wiping his drool away. “We are going back to dining and ditching, man. Ripped a hole in my wallet during our last mission. No more, Dally.”

Stunned, I watched him slowly let his head fall back onto my lap. Marco and I stared in a mix of both belief and disbelief, watching the young man’s breathing fall back into a steadier rhythm again, his snores a bit lighter now since his neck was not craned in such an awkward way. His thumb was steadily grazing my skin before it slows down and gradually stops, a sign of very deep and peaceful slumber.

I watch Marco pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh in exhaustion.

“Marco,” I called out before he made his way out my room. He turned his attention to me, his grip on the door.

“We’ve got all the riches here with us and you’re busy flipping a damn coin. Son of Whitebeard Pirates don’t flip no coins.”

Marco stared at me. A mix of expectation, confirmation, and also disbelief displayed on his face. He scoffed before waving me off.

“Make sure you can stand on your own twig legs before you talk your shit.”

My First Commander was out the door before I can retort.

For the remaining two weeks of recovery, it breezed by faster than I had expected. I was slowly and steadily healing, while my appetite grew at a very fast rate. Ace and I were close to all out wars in the way we ate with such starving intensity. Ace’s narcolepsy was also finally shaken off after an incredible three days of intense and strong drowsiness. By the fifth day, Ace was finally wide awake, alert and oriented. Scared his entire Second Division.

It was the separation anxiety I had momentarily developed that was the worst to tackle. Every night since the night at the tavern, I had slept with Ace nearby. Whether at bedside, on the floor, or sprawled at the foot of my bed, he was there. It was both the anxiety of the last two months, as well as the intimacy from Ace I had grown to cling onto. The soft caresses of my hand, the gentle kisses on my hands or shoulders, forehead. They were silent gestures that revealed both our comfort and our unfinished business we had left back on that island - two of us dancing carefully around the fact that we missed our chance for a first kiss, and never talked of it again. And it mutually remained that way as we both rested, both focused on assimilating back to our regular routines.

Pops had allowed Ace to stay at my bedside for the time being but had given us a heads up – a deadline. Ace was a Second Division Commander, after all. And both Ace and I knew of duty and responsibility. We didn’t have time to fully heal before continuing our lives like how it normally was. So the first few days when I had encouraged Ace to retreat back to his own space for proper rest, it was excruciating. Fear and worry loomed over me before each night alone, forcing myself to face the fact that I was truly never going to move on. There will always be the looming anxiety that I may catch or take a second look in the corner of my eye at night.

Every night, I told myself that I had gone through it all and will go through it again just to be back with my family like this, to be back with Ace. It was the only comfort that had turned to a mantra. It took another few days for the mantra to work, and for me to adjust and get used to sleeping alone. I dreamt of things not of the past, but dreamt of things only to wake up and forget as I looked forward to another day alive and able to get out of bed. I awoke every day irritated and cranky to the loud sounds of men at the deck, before Thatch whipped up my cup of coffee I was addicted to.

Pops also made the decision to travel to a nearby island Emerald Isle, where the island apparently shared the same waters. He was glad I was recovering, but because our fleet had halted and stopped everything for me, because of how much time we put over my troubles, and because of my spiked bounty, he needed me back on my two feet as soon as possible for my own safety. We were going to cruise by this island, not even stop or dock for a few days. One night, I had told Pops. One night docked was all I needed, because all I needed was a quick swim. It was a mutual decision between Popa and I, in respect to my personal request. I needed Baba and Semira left alone as much as possible, to live their lives untouched by my world as much as possible. To be at peace, free and ignorant of the rest of the world as much as possible. I sought no more answers because I have no more questions.

By the time we had arrived to the nearby and unknown island, I was close to fully recovered, but was still unable to move around as freely as I would like, as my most sensitive part of recovery was my punctured stomach. When we docked it was already dusk, and after dinner and everyone had sought for refuge in their beds, it was pitch black. The waters of the shore were glimmering its hues of black and green. It was not as vivid and haunting like the intoxicating colors of Emerald, but it was like a distant cousin, its saturation similar and familiar.

My skin was tingling when the full moon was at its peak, like as if my skin was parched and craving. When I had quietly left my room, bikini worn under my clothes, out on the deck the sea breeze in the night kissed my face so warmly. Creeping out, I treaded my way and down to the shore, dipping my feet into the cold water. I did not want to dive and make any loud noises, for I wanted my own privacy below the Moby Dick. So I swam near the head of the ship, where it was shadowed by the gigantic figurehead.

I swam in the night endlessly back and forth, as if the action of dipping myself underwater was like breathing fresh air I needed. There was not a single creature in sight during the still of the night, not a soul in sight as I swam freely, danced in motions underwater. The painful stitch I would feel at the side of me whenever I twisted or moved my upper body too much slowly faded, unnoticed by me whenever I flipped in the water. My arm did not tingle as much, the ligaments to my fingers no longer feeling the intense numbness it would get after some light strain to it. I swam and swam, before I finally laid on my back again, drifting. I stare at the bright and large moon up ahead, slowly drifting away from the ship. But I never allow myself to drift too far. When I found myself a good distance away and checked the direction of our ship, I saw something light up near the edge of the Moby Dick. Catching my attention immediately, I dipped underwater to swim back closer to it.

When I had reached the edge of the ship again and came up for air, I peeked up above and saw Ace peering down next to a lit lantern, his elbows leaning against the edge of the ship. The light casted on him showed me how well rested he looked now, handsome and relaxed in his soft smile. He didn’t have his hat on, to my delight. We don’t say anything in the night. Slowly in the waters, I turn on my back and allowed myself to float, looking up at him. He just stares.

“Well, jump in darlin’,” I mocked out loud. “The water ain’t that bad here.”

Ace smiles down at me, leaning a little bit more forward. “Might risk it.”

I giggled. I dove backwards and flipped underwater, only to peek back up again. The water felt really good. I held my hand up against the moonlight. Looking past it, I looked at him. Such a different look on his face tonight.

I don’t know what made me do it. Don’t know if it was the stroke of death that I brushed past, the thrill of feeling so alive and present at the moment, or because recently, his little pecks on my hands and shoulders have done nothing to satisfy me. But, without taking my eyes off him, I slowly reached behind me to untie the knot at the nape of my neck, allowing my bikini top to release. Ace is still as a statue, watching me in silence. Fully removing it, I tossed it up at him with full force. He catches it effortlessly. Even in the dim light, I see a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

Maybe being a temptress ain’t all that bad, Baba.

“A thank you gift,” I told him. “My hero.”

“Wow, an honor,” Ace entertained. But he places it back at the edge of the ship for me to see. There was this intensely stiff and refrained motion in his movements, that made me feel so smug and mischievous. I thoroughly enjoyed it, as it greatly stroked my ego and confidence. I was slowly regaining my weight back, and it was nice to see it be acknowledged. I got way too much pleasure from it than I should. He continued.

“But I sure hope my gift stays only mine when you’re done.”

Something about the way he said this not only made me heart leap but made my skin form goosebumps. A sweet, sweet smile forms on my lips.

“It can be,” I pause, my breath caught in my hesitancy. “If you walk me back to my room, Commander.”

I saw him bite back a grin before he quickly turned to check around the ship, then up at the direction of the watch tower, before turning back to me. He looked adorable, almost excited. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

“Nah. Think I’ll give you more time to rest.”

My heart sunk in disappointment. Tragic, as I was feeling pretty daring tonight. He spoke again.

“I’ll let you imagine what I think about at night when I think of you.”  
  
I was stunned. My mouth was slightly open. Various parts of my body ached at that thought. His motions were so painfully slow. With a triumphant smile on his face, he still had such an innocent admiration in his eyes despite what he had spoken. So loving and gentle. He was reaching over towards the lamp. In an instant, it was out, completely cloaking the front of the ship in the midnight dark. Absolutely sulking and unable to let go of his tease, I did not find it justice if he did not leave as frustrated as I am for the night. Before I can stop myself, I spoke out as I shut my eyes and let myself drift, my body intentionally exposed to him in this moonlight.

“I think I’ll be doing more than just imagining tonight, Portgas D. Ace. You can take that to bed.”

Then we stayed like this for a moment longer - Ace just watching in intense silence, one elbow propped up with his hand touching his mouth, never taking his glazed eyes off me as I hummed to the night, healing away. I swam and floated around with my eyes closed, basking in both the sun and moon in one night.


	20. Chapter 20

I jolt awake, my face was soaked. I’ve been crying. I’m shaking, convulsing. I’m dry heaving, sick to my stomach as I’m trying to get the vision of that Ace out of my head. I fumble to get out of bed and fall, scraping my knee. I’m half sobbing, half heaving with nothing vomiting out. I felt like how I felt when the Boogeyman followed me in the night, for the first time in months. But something was different.

It felt too real. I had almost let it slip out my head I was dreaming. I was still trying to grip onto present reality. For a moment, in my existence, Ace really did die. I felt this within my soul. I can feel my heart still hurting and mourning. I can still touch the ground that laid his body. I let out a strangled sound from another pang in my chest, as I desperately try to pry open my door, begging the wooden object to release me, to let me see him with my own eyes. My legs were jelly. My heart hurt too much. My field of vision was blurry from the darkness of the night and the flood of tears I could not control. I familiarize myself with the lock on my door. Finally, present knowledge seeps into me, and my hands automatically unlocks and opens the door.

My chest was about to burst from the pain. I’m silently wheezing, finding it difficult to breathe with each second that passed when I could not see him before my very eyes.

When I finally found myself in front of Ace’s room, I pounded on the door.

“Please answer,” I gasped out in between sobs. Every second was torturous. Every second felt like eons, my heart was about to break more and more. The chest pain worsened.

“Pleas-“

The door finally opened and the sight before me was like fresh cold night air. I gasped at the sight. Ace’s sleepy face, alarmed but trying really hard to open his dry eyes. His hair was a mess. Shirtless as usual, and with that stupid, stupid drool at the corner of his mouth. I sobbed in relief.

Ace’s face grew bewildered. He was speaking but I could not hear a single thing as I rushed up and reached for his face. I wiped my tears with my arm as I touched his face. Not caring that Ace might’ve been scared seeing an unsightly view of a disheveled woman in the middle of the night, I reached out to placed a hand on his chest. Firm. Warm. Beating. I felt him tense up as I touched his chest. Chanting words of relief, I tried to fill my senses with the present him. But the more I felt, the more I cried.

The dream felt too real. Like it happened. It did happen.

But I don’t want it to happen.

I was beginning to hear Ace’s voice.

“Dahlia. Dahlia!”

“You’re here,” I said I pressed my hand back on his chest. An ugly sob escaped me.

“Hey,” I heard Ace repeat more firmly. I stare and soak up his features. As flustered as he is, I will have to apologize once I’ve calmed down. As calm as he sounded, his face was so red and panicked even I can see it in the dark. His body was also very tense as his eyes focused on only me. It felt like I haven’t seen him for ages, when surely, my mind was now realizing it’s only been less than a night. He had just returned from a mission with his division.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke. “I’m sorry I just had this horrible dream. I-I thought-“

I felt the tears spill again and my voice waver. “I thought you-“

I shut up, and more tears swelled in my chest. What I tried to say must be left unspoken. I don’t dare speak it into this universe.

“Ace, may I please just hug you?”

Ace must’ve realized, because his body language shifted. He relaxes a bit, he wrapped his arms around me and I immediately wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. It was so light, I barely felt his arms. He was so careful. But I didn’t care. None of that matters. I wrap myself tighter, not caring if it may be uncomfortable. I had to feel him _here_. I let his scent envelop me. And almost immediately, through my sense of smell, I felt so much calmer. Amber and vetiver. I took in deep breathes, trying to breathe through my hiccups and sobs.

When I had calmed down a bit, Ace gently broke the hug and held the sides of my arms to guide me to sit at the edge of his bed. As I sat, I grabbed his wrists just to check on them. No marks or signs of worn cuffs. I stare at his chest again and placed another hand on the center of it. Firm. Real. Here. My breathing trembles at the thought and I am shaking again.

I moved my hand to where his heart was beating.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and I felt my throat tighten up again. “I’m really sorry for all suddenly doing all this but I just-“

Tears started back up and would not stop. My heart was hurting at the idea and thought of the dream. It shook me to the core.

“It just felt so real,” I breathed out. I removed my hand and gently touched his face again. Yes, he is here. I touched his arm. He’s warm. He’s breathing. He’s here.

“Hey.”

I felt two hands on the sides of my face and my eyes closed. It felt good.

“Dahlia. Breathe.”

“You can’t leave.” I spoke, but I surprised myself at how loud my own voice was. But I think I was speaking to myself. My voice wavered again as my tears flowed heavier. My hands touched his chest, his shoulders, his arms as the panic in my voice rises. “You can’t ever leave me Ace-“

“Hey! Hey. I’m not going anywhere,” Ace said gently. I sighed. I placed my own hands on his. My chest started hurting again. I winced as I continued to cry. My chest just hurt too much. I was in so much pain.

“Dahlia,” Ace repeated softly. His warm hands still on my face, he caressed my cheeks, wiping away the tears with so much patience despite how they continuously spilled. “Breathe.”

I opened my eyes. The moonlight was generous on Ace. As always, he was breathtaking, but there was such a sad look on his face. A pained look. For a split second, his eyes looked so far away that it stunned me.

“Breathe,” he reminded me.

I took in a deep breath as we stared at each other, my eyes searching for something in his. But his calm and gentle demeanor remained, masking something that was hiding somewhere inside him.

“Ace,” I spoke out softly. I found I had stopped crying as I stared more into this eyes.

“Hm?”

“Don’t leave,” I said again in a steadier voice. I wasn’t sure what exactly I meant, and I was sure from the look on his face that he wasn’t sure either. But all I knew was that I meant it.

But Ace is looking at me, smiling. “I’m here, idiot. Don’t be silly.”

I squeezed both of Ace’s hands. He caresses my hand with a thumb as he removed them from my face to hold mine.

“What did you dream about?”

I shook my head. I did not wish to speak it. I bite my own lip in determination, and I take in deep breaths, trying to not trigger myself into another breakdown at the thought of it. My face contorted from my threat to cry again as I continuously shake my head, as if I was shaking the madness of that possibility away from me and my entire existence. 

But Ace seemed to have gotten the idea, the way his eyes widened in a subtle realization. We sat across each other, basking in the moonlight in silence. Ace held both my hands, running his thumb on my skin as he looked out his room’s porthole, lost in thought. There was something sad on his face. Something bittersweet. I sat there watching him.

“Ace.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

He turned to look at me. “For what?”

“I barged in and just started touching you.”

Ace quickly turned back to look at the window, but his ears were red. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is. I am still sorry.”

“Normally,” he turned back to face me, a charming and mocking smile on his face. “I’d like to kiss the girl I’m courting first before we get that intimately close.”

“…And how often is normal, Ace?”

Ace laughed. I smiled, relief to my ears as I listen to him.

We continued to sit in silence again, lost in the hours of the night. I can’t tell how long we sat there, but we sat in each other’s silence, till my chest no longer hurt, till my eyes were not as puffy, and my face was completely rid of tears. Ace continued to hold my hand, lost in his thoughts. I wasn’t sure if I should speak. But I wanted him here. Present. Nowhere else. A tinge of pain returned in my chest, but he spoke before I can. His voice was so soft and gentle, like as if he would have disturbed the peace in the night if he spoke any louder. It was a rare voice of his that I’ve had the privilege to hear a couple of times since I’ve been a part of this family, during late nights like these when he was secretly sliding a secret over to me, one he trusted to be free of judgement, of action.

“I’ve never seen someone cry over my death,” he said amusingly. “It feels odd – This feeling of being missed.“

I don’t know how to respond.

“But I guess,” he paused for a moment, eyes completely lost in thought for proper words. “I guess it feels nice, to know I’ve done something somewhat decent with my existence to be mourned over.”

“Sorry,” he immediately spoke again and turned to me. “I hope you didn’t take it wrong-“

“No, I didn’t,” I interrupted, assuring him. “I didn’t.”

His eyes faltered again as he fell silent once more. A ton of thoughts were going through his mind, to the point where I was able to see it occupy not only his head, but the stillness of his tense shoulders, the shallow and quiet breathing from his chest.

“Dahlia,” Ace called out to me but doesn’t look my way. His thumb stopped caressing my hand. I held my breath.

“I can’t promise you anything to make you feel better tonight,” he spoke. His voice was empty, as if accepting that he was to take this role – accepting in defeat his delusional belief that he was a disappointing man.

“We’re pirates,” he spoke again in a whisper. But he could not continue. It was a start of a conversation he was too scared to continue. But I already knew. Yes, we are pirates. We play and bargain and bet our lives daily. That is what we signed up for.

“I know,” I spoke out, hoping once again, my assurance reaches out to him. His thumb continues to caress my hand again.

“But I can promise you; every day that I’m alive,” he spoke a bit louder. “I do my best just to live an extra day in the same sky as you. You know that, right?”

My heart ached, but no tears spilled as I stared at the man before me, in all his beauty. I cursed at the gods above and my own soul, at how much it hurts to love this man. A realization dawns over me, washes over me like a warm wave. I have never felt as present as I did now, staring at this man before me. All the times we have dangled our youth and lives on the line, and I have never told him.

If I kept it to myself any longer, it would poison me. I realize the words in my chest will rot into regret if I continuously swing between the past and future, but never here with him in the present.

It felt right. Everything around me right at this moment felt right. I felt myself speak. I can almost hear myself mentally laugh despite my exhaustion and my breakdown just mere moments ago. If he couldn’t say it, I will.

“Ace?”

When Ace looks into my eyes, I felt he knew what I am going to say next from the way he held his breath. There is a pause in his presence. There is also an underlying fear in his eyes that seemed both a cousin and stranger to me. A hesitancy, it seems, or maybe an unsureness of whether he can brace and accept it. But I think he knew because I was staring so helplessly at him, so sick in the emotion I have always felt whenever I look at him – my heart bursting to let it out. His eyes widened, his entire large body, so used to protecting, fighting, lashing, freezes in a tender fear.

“I love you.”

I watch as the emotions flash through his eyes faster than he can probably process. Truly, this man is so transparent, even if all he did is fight and face everything with fire. Flashy, brash, and in your face – it’s easy to not pay attention to his eyes when there can be so many things he can showcase and distract you from. But it is truly in his eyes that, despite the fire he hastily tries to keep aflame before him, I can still see things that lurk behind it. And now as I sit across from him in the bed, I watch him tackle his own thoughts. I watch him as he learns how exposed he can be now with the fire he so religiously relies on cannot touch the words I give to him – curated in my darkness, in my moonlight, in a place and time that I have spent so much time in just for him to find me and only me. The surprised look on his face, the happiness, the doubt, the hesitation – they all revealed themselves in this silver light.

In the silence of night, I watch his mind tackle itself, like the utter idea of being loved in return was so foreign to him, or at least it did not make sense if he were to be added to the equation. I think of all the times we have talked in the night, the different looks his face can hold, those eyes that would turn darker than the night itself. I think of how I thought I was crazy, seeing and recognizing the looming anxiety Ace seemed to carry so much of daily. I see so much that I question my sanity when folks do not see it. When it is as clear as day.

As I stare at these realizations in the physical form of Ace, something starts to settle in my mind as we breathed in each other’s presence and the cursed words I had spoken. I knew Ace could never love me as fully, as gracefully and devotedly as I am willing to, if he continues to invalidate his own self, and as long as he was Portgas D. Ace, Second Division of the Whitebeard Pirates. But knowing he wanted to, knowing who he is and all that he has been – I settle with myself. I settle, I tell myself, and my heart breaks again. This will be more than I deserve in this lifetime. For someone to try so hard to love me as much as they know how…I’ll take it. I’ll cling onto it. Because if it’s from Ace, it is worth ten times more.

Because I am just as broken as he is.

“You don’t have to say it back,” I assure him, my eyes never leaving him. I lean forward and grab his hand as carefully as I can, scared he might flinch. With my fingers entwined with his, I watch as he opened his mouth in retort to my statement, his eyes following my every move. But I continue, soft spoken. “I love you. All of you. Everything you’re thinking and feeling now – all of it.”

Maia, I think to myself. Mother, did your heart hurt when you saw things fall into place as well? When you connected pieces faster than your emotions can catch up to it? Did it hit as hard as the wave you sacrificed your life to make, to save a daughter who can’t possibly love you back the way you did?

“Do you remember what you whispered to me, when I was recovering?” I ask as I put his hand on my bare shoulder. I ask him to recall my first few weeks with them. His eyes look back at me in shocked trance as I guide his hand to slide up my shoulder. “When you thought I was unconscious. What did you say to me?”

_“You have more balls than me,” I hear Ace’s voice whisper to me. But my eyelids were too heavy, and I was too heavily medicated. I feel his hand holding mind. “At least you left a cut on his cheek. I didn’t even get to touch him when I tried attacking Pops. You’re something else.”_

_“You’ll like the crew here. Maybe…whenever you come to your senses, and you feel better…you’ll see. Dahlia…whatever you’re angry at…You and all your madness. There’s a place here. You’ll find facing the world a bit easier.”_

Ace tries to speak but fails. I continue to guide his hand to my chest. So warm. I hope he can feel my heart, beating so hard that I am left breathless. My eyes flutter in the warm comfort on my chest as I spoke out, making his hand spread right on top of my heart. “There’s a place here.”

I slide his hand up to my neck. I heard a loud, shaking sigh from him as I flutter my eyes closed for a second at his warmth once more. I focus my eyes back on him. I wait for his eyes to also tear away from my actions to look back at me. Slowly shifting my body closer to him, I feel him tense up. Sitting upright on my own legs, I place his hand on my cheek, my thumb grazing the calloused knuckles. I whisper out to him.

“I love you. So much.”

I take my time as I slowly kiss each of his fingertips, then the top of his hand. My eyes never leave his, never look away from the light changing in his eyes, wavering, conflicted. But I make him lock eyes on my own – settled, decided, and now sure.

“You and all your damn madness – all that may not yet make sense yet. I love you.”

His body still tense, I watch the shock fade, as his eyes focus on my actions, full of emotion unexplained. They seem to cause him pain, like he felt too much of it. But I pay no mind as he does not pull away. I slowly turn his hand over to kiss his wrist.

“Portgas D. Ace, I love you.”

His chest sinks sharply as if the breath he just exhaled was excruciating. I feel the hand I hold touch my hair and I press my lips firmer against his skin.

I shift even closer to him. As I approach closer, Ace straightens his own legs as I straddled him by my knees. His free hand touches one of them. Looking down at him, I gently raise his arm and continue to plant light kisses on it, caressing it as my eyes never leave his. His red face betrays his conflicted eyes. I speak out to him again.

“When you can’t even love yourself, I’ll do it for you.”

His frown deepens, but his jaw clenches as I see his eyes tear up. He tries to blink them away. As I approach his shoulder, I leave one long kiss on it. I take my time, because in this night, time will heed before me. Time has already taken so much from me, I will demand it for one night. I draw back and straighten up, looking down at him.

“Dahlia,” Ace whispers my name. It sounded urgent and pleading. I hum in response, but he cannot conjure up anymore words.

If I had ever wondered what it would feel like to have the sun worship me, I must have found my answer staring down at Ace’s face before me - captivated at me, eyes that held only me and my existence. Ace has never looked at me like this before. I’m speechless as goosebumps raise on my skin when I feel his hands graze up the side of my thighs. His brows in surrender, his eyes look in defeat as he gave into his adoration of me. He revered me. My god, he revered me. He looked helpless as his eyes danced all over my face. He did not have to say it. His face always showed it all. Always.

The sun, I agree with myself. Yes, this is as close as I will get with the sun, and I’ll take it as it is. This is more than enough, the fact that I have not withered in its flames.

Has anyone seen him like this? Have Luffy ever seen this? Sabo? His brothers? Anyone? Any past intimate persons? As much as I thought of how I wish the world can see such a beautiful side of him, I find myself shivering in delight from the realization that I was the only witness. Something selfish and greedy rushes out of me as I feel the need to absorb all of him. I knew it - I felt it from how vulnerable he looked, how weak he was as he looked up at me, in shock and amazement, in wonder and fear. As I knelt and looked down on him, I was making him crumble before my touch, as he allowed me to shower and pour over him how much I felt for him. I need to forever cherish this power given to me. The gods may have blessed me with an experience I never deserved, and I can truly die happy from it.

The world feared him, and yet here he is before me, revering me, devoting this night to me as much as I will devote my life to him.

The things we give up for love when we were so deprived of it. Looking down at him, at us like this… Maia, I may understand you, just a tad bit more. I already feel I’ve lived a successful life, seeing his face in this moonlight.

“All of you,” I find myself breathing out to him. My lips mere centimeters away from his. I feel his body try to lean in, but I keep the distance. “I want all of you. Promise me.”

His eyes glazed and watery, his cheeks flushed even more red as I plant the softest kiss on his lips. I lightly suck on his lower lip, before I part, pulling it teasingly. I feel his body lean into me again, but I drew back once more and continue to look at him. He is trying so hard to breath evenly, to hold himself and his emotions together the way his grip on my skin was so tense and harsh. I cup his face with both of my hands. His eyes slightly flutter as I caress his face, a hand sliding up his neck as I plant another soft kiss on his lips. His hand moves and slowly grazes my thigh, up my behind onto my lower back. I felt his hand try to push me closer to him.

“Ace.”

I drew as further back as I can to admire him before his grip tightens me in place, as if he feared I was to disappear the moment his prayer ended. His grip is so strained, I can feel his fingers tremble. My thumb continues caressing his cheek. He takes in a sharp breath as he tries to blink away his tears. He swallows hard. His eyes take in me. Only me. I almost melt from his touch, so warm against my cool skin. So firm and present while my touch stayed so ginger and light.

I only exist in his eyes now, and I watch as he tries to process his emotions. I repeat my love for him again and again, and watch a tear escape his eyes, watch it trail his cheek bone, down over to my fingers. Each whisper chips him down, breaks him down. As I continue my words of affection to him, I find him whispering the same to me, uncontrollable. A creek which led to an overflowing river - I love you, love you, love you, Dahlia, love you, you, you, you, _you_. While my kisses remain tender, the wet kisses he plants onto me gets rougher, more desperate. The smallest whisper of a sob escapes his lips once more as he listens. How can a man like him love me, when he didn’t dare to love himself?

“Ace,” I sigh out blissfully as I pull his head back to stare at him again. “Promise me there will be nothing but you when it’s just us. Absolutely _nothing_ but you.”

Another tear comes down. I tenderly kiss it away.

“Nothing but you and everything of you,” I whisper out, and place another kiss on his soaked cheekbone. “So when you can’t find yourself, you have me to come home to. I’ll hold it all, because I hold you. I’ll love you when you can’t.”

“I promise.” A sob escapes him as fiercely as he had whispered out his promise. A kiss graces my chest again, hot breath sending shivers down me. I sigh in pleasure once more, and I felt him tighten his grip harder, feeling his lips continue to lightly graze my skin.

And I make him recite it. I make him repeat himself in between traded kisses of my own, until he speaks it with his eyes closed, when even if he was getting lost into his own kisses on my skin, he can speak it effortlessly. Until it rolls off his tongue, because his voice has begun to ground itself back to desire.

“When I can’t find myself,” he plants another kiss. “I have you to come home to.”

I kiss his forehead as he continues.

“You’ll hold it all, because you hold me.”

His voice grows more desperate, but my kisses stay light, slow, tender as it reaches his own lips.

“You’ll love me when I can’t.”  
  
Everything in his mind eventually crumbles down into one, because it is with me. Like he promised.

“Swear by it, Portgas D. Ace.” I am looking down at him again as I break away slightly. His hands roam up to my waist under my shirt. My whisper was harsher and my gaze on him focused. My hand slips to his chin, tilting it up. He lets out a breathless sigh, his face tear-stained, his face flushed and already intoxicated from our intimacy. And I am invigorated at the sight. I feel myself aching for him, both legs and nether regions painfully weak, but my voice never wavers. I need him present. Here with me. All of him and his senses, all of his unraveled mess. I need his honor, as it was the only way I know he will not forsake me.

“No matter if you’re the son of Whitebeard, of Portgas D. Rouge, or of Gol D. Roger. As the partner of Dahlia, swear by it.”

I find I’m forcefully pulled down by strong hands, to sit fully on him. Warm arms slide up my back and fully embrace me, locking me in place. His grip is so tight, my skin almost burns from how delighted it was. I draw my face down close to his, my eyes never leaving his lips, as his do not leave mine. As I capture the remaining emotions pouring down his face with my fingers, I envelope the fear, the anxiety, the doubt, the lust, the desperation and desire – all of it, sealing it within me. I fully envelope his next words in hunger, in my own desperation, praying I am able to engulf them and bury them deep within my chest, locked in place within the sharp cracks of my broken heart.

“I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone is safe and well. 
> 
> lmk your thoughts!


End file.
